Image Caption: Sun setting on a day full of promise
Photographer: Me
There comes a time in every woman’s life when she no longer dreams only of diamonds, grand declarations, or being dramatically chosen in a room full of people pretending not to watch.
No.
She begins to dream of something far more dangerous.
Silence.
Not the awkward kind.
Not the “he left me on read” kind.
Not the kind that follows a family WhatsApp message nobody wants to answer.
I mean the beautiful kind.
The kind where nobody calls your name.
Nobody asks what is for dinner.
Nobody needs you to remember the thing they forgot, find the thing they lost, or emotionally translate a sentence they could have simply said with love.
My safe haven is that place.
Sometimes it is my bed, receiving me like an old friend who has seen the entire season and still claps when I arrive.
Sometimes it is the sea, rolling in and out as if God gave it permission to feel everything and keep moving.
Sometimes it is a quiet room, a cup of tea, a closed door, and the soft rebellion of being unavailable.
Because women know this truth.
We spend years being the warm centre of other people’s worlds.
We hold the birthdays.
The appointments.
The moods.
The meals.
The memories.
The missing socks.
The silent heartbreaks people do not know how to name.
And then someone says, “You should relax.”
As if rest is a button.
As if peace can be summoned on command while your mind is still hosting a full committee meeting with snacks.
So I am learning to find my safe haven before my body has to beg for it.
A small room.
A soft blanket.
A walk near water.
A moment where I am not useful.
A moment where I am simply mine.
And perhaps that is the real luxury.
Not being admired.
Not being needed.
Not being praised for how much we can carry.
But having one sacred place where we can put it all down and still feel worthy.
Signed:
A woman who finally understands that rest is not a reward.
It is a return.
