a place in this world

“Looks like summer’s been good to you.”

I smile. I’m in a grey cotton spaghetti strap tank top, high waisted denim shorts, and white sandals. I’m out for my morning walk.

And he’s not wrong, it has. I spend as much time as I can walking in the sun with a touch of SPF, but I feel like my skin has gotten to the point in the late summer where it turns golden instead of red.

I tell him that the words are hard to come by, but I’m giving myself grace as I wait for them to return.

I haven’t talked to the angels in a while. Or maybe I do. I like to think they can read whatever I haven’t written down.

There’s a line that keeps popping up in my head from Frances Mayes’ A Place In This World. She finds a picture of her mother in a locket and feels her saying, “Go. Do all the things I wasn’t able to do.”

Well, I was published. For starters.

And in moments like these, I remember her more. Because when something that bears so much weight and joy and magnitude and importance comes in - the first person you want to call is someone that you love. She would be proud. I know she would be. He tells me this, too.

“It’s a different type of wealth - knowing that people want to hear your stories and opinions on things.”

People ask me all the time if I would move back to Europe. If the right opportunity presented itself - then I absolutely would. If it was in my fate, if it was in my destiny. But I am always a firm believer in - wherever you go, there you are. And the amount of inner peace that I’ve experienced this summer was something I never experienced in Rome. Rome was about bracing. Bracing for the next move. Bracing for the next step, the next hurdle. Not to say that I haven’t faced hurdles here, in the city - I have. But there’s an exhale here that I’m experiencing.

I’ve stopped searching. Stopped proving. Started believing. Started surrendering. And I know there is a reason for everything.

My white sheets are hanging in the kitchen to dry. The balcony door is open so I can feel the tiniest breeze. I woke up with the sun again. I meditated. I put dishes away. I showered and shaved and washed my hair. I walked to the park to take a photo of my magazine. A lady bug landed on me.

Luck.

Tomatoes and cucumbers from the grocery store. The summer heat excuses a bag of Miss Vickie’s for lunch. I tell him goodbye. I walk back to my apartment to unload groceries, to hydrate, and to close my eyes for a tiny bit.

There’s another walk in me for this evening, I can feel it. I want to see those cotton candy skies, and record the things only I seem to notice.

I am proud. I am proud. I am proud.

And I know she is, too.