the sense of an ending

(old stones & saying goodbye)

On the last days in the little stone cottage, I made a list on my phone.

‘3am garden’, it reads. ‘ The hoot of the owl, a frenzy of crickets. A wide sky of sparkling stars. Insects down my back. The world vibrating around me.’

I noted down details, desperate not to forget, because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. But it was all already lost to me, had become lost the moment I knew I could never return. For twenty five years I had been hearing those crickets and marvelling at the brightness of the stars — building layer upon layer of memories that I carried away, woven into myself, when I shut the door for the last time, my eyes brimming with tears.

Those old, old stones had seen tears before. They echo with centuries of memories — home to many stories before mine and — soon— to the story of someone new. Sometimes, a beloved place like that little cottage can anchor you. It tethers you not only to where you are, but to who you are — to who you’ve been, what you’ve felt and how you’ve changed. A beloved place can remind you that the life you dreamed of is the life you’ve slowly built, and that the days of that life are flying.

We swam in the tree-lined lake before leaving. We were alone in the water — it was warm, but the sky was ominously black. Thunder rumbled in the distance and fat raindrops bounced off the surface. I floated, weightless for a few moments, the rain falling on my face and mingling with tears.

For weeks afterwards, I felt melancholy. Untethered. I thought often of the old cottage and the tree-lined garden, thought about goodbyes, and the sense of an ending. Autumn came, and one day — when I awoke to a pattering on my window — I went to the woods. A cloud of mist had settled and the air was hazy. Underfoot, a few golden leaves had already fallen. Raindrops trickled through the trees and touched my face.

I took my phone out of my pocket and started to jot down a list.

Thank you for reading,

Laura x

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PS: You can read about why I loved the little stone cottage here: