It’s been a full kind of Sunday—the kind that moves between emotion and ease, little rituals and quiet reminders of love.
The night was restless. The heat made everything feel heavy, sleep patchy at best. But the morning came, and with it, a quick trip to the sea. Tilly and I wandered down at low tide. I stayed dry, content to watch her splash and twirl, free and full of life. There’s something peaceful about just letting her be, especially in the water. No instructions, no fixing. Just joy.
Later, I helped Mum with some life admin, dropped Tilly to her dad, and ticked off the food shop. I had a few hours at home—washed clothes, cleared my head a little. The quiet helped.
Then I headed to Joel’s mum and dad’s. Luca was in full splash-mode, soaking Granny and Grumpy from the middle of his new paddling pool. He was having the time of his life. Sometimes he runs to me, full of smiles and snuggles—but today wasn’t one of those days. And that’s okay. He’s little. I’m still new. I don’t take it personally. I like to think he feels how much I care, even on the quiet days. I love him deeply, even from across the paddling pool.
Later, Joel picked me up and we headed to the bathing pools—our Sunday ritual.
The ladies’ pool was high and choppy, the kind of water that demands a bit of respect. We did a couple of laps before spotting a jellyfish drifting in the waves—so we swapped to the children’s pool instead. Calmer, clearer, safer. Still the sea, just gentler.
We came home salty and happy, grabbed chips, and curled up to watch Sinister—a perfect mix of jump scares, dark twists, and popcorn shrieks. It was brilliant.
Somewhere in the quiet after, I decided it’s time to reclaim the lounge—to make it mine again, ours. Joel agreed, and now we have a plan.
It’s been such a good day. Not loud. Not dramatic. But right.
And this morning? We both woke up more refreshed than we’ve felt in weeks.
Here’s hoping it’s the beginning of a better rhythm.
A gentler tide.
A fresh start.