Tag: journey

This weekend was a weekend of exploration.

It began on Friday with something simple but intentional: a bus ride to the gym. Zumba with friends. Music, movement, laughter, and the quiet satisfaction of showing up. Nothing extravagant, just choosing to participate in my own life.

Saturday brought a change in plans. The scheduled hike was canceled, but instead of staying home, I still rode the bus and MAX to the park. I wandered a few trails on my own, unbothered by the shift. There was something grounding about moving forward anyway, about not needing a group or a perfect plan to enjoy being outdoors.

Sunday carried the momentum.

I reconnected with an old walking partner, and together we took a walk through Emy neighborhood, shared steps, familiar streets, conversation that felt easy and unforced. Later that morning, I made my way to Pittock Mansion, standing high above the city and taking in Portland from up top. From there, everything looked expansive and calm, as if the city itself was reminding me to breathe.

That afternoon, I met another friend for brunch. Over food and conversation, we decided, just like that, to plan a spring break road trip together. And then came the unexpected gift: she offered to drive. Support doesn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it shows up casually, generously, and right on time.

I ended the day with one more moment of discovery: a visit to another Thomas Danbo installation. This one was right in my own neighborhood, hidden in plain sight. I had no idea it was there until today, and somehow that felt symbolic too, reminders that wonder can exist close to home, even when we think we already know our surroundings.

What stayed with me most wasn’t any single activity, but the way my time unfolded. I moved through the weekend with intention. I noticed how useful my time felt, not rushed, not wasted, not overextended. Just lived.

Lately, I’m paying attention to how I spend my days, who I share them with, and how I choose myself within them. This weekend felt like alignment, small decisions stacking into something steady and affirming.

Exploration doesn’t always require distance. Sometimes it looks like boarding the bus anyway, taking the walk, saying yes to brunch, or discovering beauty where you already are.

And for now, that feels like enough.

This feels like the beginning of a new phase for me.

Not one defined by urgency or proving, but by presence. By choosing how I move through my days instead of reacting to what’s been handed to me. I’m learning that my life doesn’t need to be loud to be meaningful—it needs to be intentional.

This next phase looks like paying attention. To my body. To my time. To the people who walk alongside me without pulling or pushing. It looks like exploration without pressure, connection without obligation, and momentum that feels sustainable instead of exhausting.

I’m no longer measuring my days by how much I give away, but by how rooted I feel in myself at the end of them. And if this weekend is any indication, I’m heading somewhere steady, curious, and wholly my own.

That feels like a beginning worth honoring.

This season feels less about reinvention and more about reclamation. After years of centering motherhood, survival, and responsibility, I find myself standing in a quieter space, one where I get to ask what I need, what I enjoy, and how I want my days to feel. Daughter. Mother. Me. has always been about holding all of those identities at once, but this chapter asks something new: that I finally make room for myself without apology. This weekend didn’t just fill my time, it reflected a shift. One where my life is no longer on pause, waiting for permission, but unfolding in real time, exactly where I am.

If this resonates, I invite you to pause and check in with yourself. What season are you in right now? What does exploration look like at this stage of your life? Share it—with a friend, in a journal, or in the comments here. We’re allowed to evolve out loud, and none of us has to do it alone.