Soft Days & Open Hearts: Waiting for Love that Feels Like Home

After yesterday’s adventure of climbing ropes, ziplining, and walking miles through London, my body was crying out for rest today – and I happily listened… at least for a while. I had a slow, gentle lie-in this morning, letting my body stretch out beneath the covers, sore but grateful for all it carried me through. I’d promised myself a quiet, restorative day at home – but then Khushi suggested a little shopping trip and a Mummy-Khushi lunch date, and honestly, how could I resist? These are the moments I treasure most – time with my girl, who somehow turned 21 overnight.

We wandered through the shops, and as much as I adore Autumn – my true soulmate season – I left empty-handed today. The stores had started stocking the pumpkins, the warm-toned throws, and the autumn candles… but nothing truly called to me. Maybe it’s still a little too early. Maybe, as with everything else lately, I’m learning to only bring into my life what feels aligned – what I love, not just what fills space.

Later, I spent a few cosy hours at my Aunt’s, tucked into a conversation that meandered through all the beautiful, raw, real parts of life – home, midlife, menopause, all of it. There’s something grounding about those chats – like sipping tea for the soul.

And tonight, as the sky darkened and the house settled into its quiet rhythm, a thought that’s been lingering lately returned: I say I’m scared to fall in love again… but the deeper truth? I’m simply waiting. Waiting for the man whose presence feels like home – steady, grounded, safe. The kind of love that doesn’t make me question my worth, not even for a second.

I still believe in that love – the quiet, soul-deep connection that doesn’t need noise or games. The man who shows up, without needing to be asked. Who holds space for my dreams and gently nudges me forward when I lose faith in myself. Who sees me – fully, flaws and all – and chooses me, as I am.

I’m not rushing. I’ll wait for love that feels safe, love that feels sure. The kind of love that’s not built on fear, but on quiet knowing.

Until then, I keep softening into the life I’ve built, one season, one slow day at a time – trusting that everything meant for me is finding its way, in its own perfect timing.

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