A Gentle Return to the World

Today felt like a small but meaningful milestone.

While I’ve been out of the house for medical appointments — doctors, pharmacies, the necessary logistics of recovery — today was different. This was my first intentional outing since surgery. Not because I had to go somewhere, but because I wanted to.

Just brunch with a few close friends as a Christmas catch-up before they head off to spend time with their families.

And yet… it mattered.

There was something quietly restorative about getting dressed, stepping outside, and letting the day unfold without urgency. The venue changed from our original plan, but we ended up somewhere just right — by the water of my local lake. The kind of place where you can sit, breathe, and watch the world move gently around you.

I ordered Turkish eggs — warming, comforting, nourishing — and they were delicious. The kind of meal that feels like care on a plate.

What touched me most, though, was the thoughtfulness of my friends. They gifted me homemade edible treats — jars of pickled vegetables, prepared with time and intention. Simple, generous, deeply human gifts. When I placed them beneath my little gnome-themed Christmas tree at home, they looked exactly right there. A quiet symbol of friendship, patience, and nourishment — things that can’t be rushed.

They in turn helped themselves to as many lemons as they liked, picked fresh from my lemon tree 🌳 🍋 – it is a sweet Sicilian “lemonade” lemon tree

Recovery has a way of narrowing life for a while. Appointments replace plans. Rest replaces movement. The world grows smaller — and that’s often exactly what’s needed. But today felt like a gentle widening again. Not a return to “normal,” just a soft reconnection with what’s always been there.

I’ve been listening a lot lately to “Enjoy Every Moment” by Noa Belle. It feels like a fitting soundtrack for this season — not about seizing life, but about noticing it. Letting moments be enough as they are.

Link to song: https://open.spotify.com/track/0gEhlFO2r3oIhc2maHYzKE?si=Y6N8mmzSTJ67HIkMobUgcA

There’s no rush to re-enter everything I stepped away from this year. No need to catch up or compensate for what was missed. Right now, it’s enough to honour these small steps — brunch by the water, shared laughter, thoughtful gifts, a body slowly healing.

Sometimes legacy isn’t built in big, visible ways. Sometimes it’s built quietly — in how we show up, how we accept what life offers, and how we allow ourselves to receive care.

Today was one of those quiet days I’ll remember. This wasn’t a medical appointment or an errand — it was time chosen for connection.