It was one of those serene magical nights, a night that felt alive, the air hummed with untold stories, with the moon and the stars casting their gentle glow over the balcony garden. She walked barefoot, feeling the coolness of the night beneath her feet, as she switched off each light in her home and flicked on the porch light, letting the night breathe its enchanted stillness into her sanctuary. The tranquility of the night embraced her like an old lost friend….
Her balcony garden, wild and overgrown, where the leaves rustled under the soft breeze, gave her solace and comfort in its own way. The plants were her confidants; they understood her in a way that few others could…. here in this peaceful oasis she was truly herself, free from the pressures of the outside world… As she gazed at her balcony garden, she felt grateful for the investment in balcony furniture that transformed the space into a haven of relaxation and reflection.
She nestled into the comfort of her favorite duvet, the night sky above, filled with twinkling stars, served as a canvas for her thoughts to wander. The scent of rich cocoa filled the air as she cradled the warm mug of hot cocoa in her hands…The first sip was magic, warming her from within and chasing away any lingering chill….,It was as if the universe had paused, allowing her to sit still in its infinite wonder.
Yet, in this stillness, while memories lingered at the edge of her thoughts, like shadows cast by the moonlight, she was aware of the danger of delving too deeply into memories, of revisiting paths she'd rather not tread….She knew better than to follow them too far……..- some paths were best left untraveled for now. .
She thought to herself, “there's a certain wisdom in acknowledging the journey she traveled. Both the solitary paths and those walked hand in hand with her favorites. Every twist and turn, every laugh and tear, had crafted her, tenderly molding her forty years into a mosaic of shimmering experiences”.
There had been moments when the thought of writing these memories down teased her, like the fleeting brush of a fairy’s wing. A smile tugged at her lips………she imagined the magic in capturing her memories of a lifetime in words. It felt like bottling memories like how one bottles fireflies .
But perhaps this thought was not so ridiculous. Perhaps those memories, those stories, were worth preserving, if only for her own peace of mind. And yet, even as the thought fleeted through her mind, she let it go. There would be time for that later.
Lost in the comfort of her balcony sanctuary, she loses track of time, unconcerned about the late hour, she is reluctant to disturb the moment. The moon watched over her with a knowing smile, the stars performing their nightly dance.
It was as if this night was spun from the threads of dreams, where the usual rules of the world no longer applied. Opening her current read from her pile of books, she floated freely between pages of her current read, the soft glow of fairy lights casting gentle halos over the garden. But tonight, the words didn’t call to her. Instead, it was the night itself that spoke to her, in whispers too soft to catch, but comforting nonetheless.
As the moon climbed higher, casting its glow over her little sanctuary, she made a quiet resolution. There would be more nights like this. More moments where the world slowed down and the chaos faded into the background. She needed this space—this quiet, this calm—to think, to dream, and perhaps one day, to write.
But for now, she simply existed in the stillness, knowing that this enchanted night, this precious hour of peace, was a gift. And as she closed her eyes, sleep pulling her into its gentle embrace, she felt the magic of the night settle into her.
Little did she know, this was just the beginning. For beyond the moonlit garden, beyond the quiet of her balcony, something was stirring. Unseen and unknown, but not for long. There was a new adventure waiting for her in the shadows of tomorrow, a new chapter that would soon begin to unfold.
To be continued...
Happy Musings
Tina.
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