Life at the Hearth
Eat the Ice Cream
Sometimes the plan is useful. And sometimes the better choice is two scoops of ice cream, bare feet in the grass, or going to bed before the day says you're supposed to.
Sometimes the plan is useful. And sometimes the better choice is two scoops of ice cream, bare feet in the grass, or going to bed before the day says you're supposed to.
I buy myself flowers. I use the pretty plates. I take the long bubble bath. Sometimes I eat dessert first. None of it is particularly necessary. But somewhere along the way, I stopped believing that need was the only respectable reason to have something.
Around the family table, meals become stories, new photographs become old ones, and traditions quietly travel from one generation to the next. A reflection on the memories we keep, the things we choose to pass on, and the beautiful things we decide will begin with us.
Being capable of carrying something doesn’t always mean we have room for it. A reflection on capacity, the hidden things that already fill our lives, and learning to count ourselves among the things worth carrying.
What if imagination isn’t something we lose as we grow older? What if it simply grows quiet, waiting for us to give ourselves permission to wonder again?