Walk alone, but do not be lonely

There is something so sacred about a walk by oneself. 

You know this to be true. You know your secret routes by heart. Out there, in the sunlight, watching the birds and noticing how they each look and sing like people you once knew, you feel alive. 

You love people, but you don’t mind when they have all left and there’s only you and your thoughts. 

They say you live in your own world—but why is that a bad thing? What does yours look like? Is it a hidden garden, nuzzled behind a door of moss? Is it a room smelling of old cedar with cracking floors and shelves stockpiled with novels? Are you laying in the grass with a brook bubbling by your head as you watch ants pilgrimage? 

Don’t worry, you tell your loved ones. When I depart, I will always come back. You are my lighthouse. But the sea is calling, and when embarking on treacherous journeys I do best solo. Never fear—I’ll bring back chocolates and flowers that smell like a fresh breeze, and I’ll be back in the spring.