Mummyfried

I really thought we were Thelma and Louise. Laverne and Shirley. The good cop and the bad cop. Two women, and a decade of firsts after a lot of pain. We did the first holidays — the first Christmases, the first New Years. We stood by each other through the deaths of our fathers. We sat in silence at your father’s funeral. I said goodbye to my dad through yours. We survived job pressures, kids pushing boundaries. I taught your child to swim. You took mine to her first disco when I was stuck at work. We laughed. We argued. You helped me when I was sick. I helped you when you were sad. I truly believed this was for life. But you found a reason to break away first. Accused me of excluding your child when I never did — a projection of what you had already done to mine. Because the truth is, your betrayal was great. My child lost an opportunity because you weren’t honest, because you had your own plans. I have since cut the chord. I visualized it snapping, disintegrating. I mourn what could ...

 It’s where I wake up in a dream-like haze, sunlight spilling through the windows. Curtains are not needed -  this view holds me in its quiet arms.  It’s where the sounds at night cradle me into the deepest sleep I’ve had in years — as if the world decided to hush itself just for me. Swimming here feels like a contradiction in motion: floating yet grounded, free yet connected.  It’s as if the water knows my name, as if it understands I came here with heavy thoughts and leaves me lighter. Now that I’m back to reality, I catch myself thinking of this place.  Not just about returning — but about making it mine.  Building a life wrapped in its calm, letting its peace soak into everything I do. This is it. My happy place. The one that wh ispers: Come back. Stay. Just be.