Basking in What’s to Come

The jacuzzi arrived.

Still in the box. Still waiting to be put together.

And somehow, I have already used it a hundred times in my mind.

I can see it. The steam rising into the cool evening air. Music is playing low.

A deep exhale. My shoulders, relaxed…My thoughts on this feel good.

And maybe that sounds dramatic for something that hasn’t even been set up yet,

But this is really not about the jacuzzi; not entirely. I think it’s about what it represents.

It’s the gradual, steady change in me. Not loudly. It’s quiet…subtle even.

My breath feels slower now. Intentional. Deeper.

My exhales feel less rushed, less guarded.

My shoulders…the same shoulders that have carried grief, responsibility, motherhood, marriage, healing, and becoming…have started relaxing in ways I didn’t even notice at first.

But apparently…He noticed. My husband has been watching me soften, watching me exhale, watching me learn to slow down, and most of all…he’s enjoying my acceptance of his love and all that it has to offer.

And without saying much, he decided he wanted to contribute to that shift.

To create space for it. To protect it.

There is something about being witnessed that touches me more deeply than words ever could, especially when you are someone who has spent years carrying, holding, managing, and being the one everyone else leans on.

Sometimes, you don’t realize how much tension lives in your body until something…or someone invites you to put it down.

So now, the box sits outside. Waiting.

And strangely enough, so am I. Waiting for what it might feel like to sit still beneath the evening sky. Waiting to see what happens when I stop rushing myself through rest. Waiting to bask in the version of me that no longer believes peace has to be earned.

I keep thinking about something:

Maybe restoration begins before the moment arrives. Maybe it begins in preparation, in anticipation, in allowing yourself to believe that peace is safe enough to make room for.

So, for now…I am basking in the possibility.

And honestly?

It feels beautiful.