I used to dream about this.
All the time.
Comfy couch, chilly arvo, her falling asleep in my lap; Time at a complete standstill.
It wasn't even something I needed to imagine - we had wintery lazy afternoons in Perth and I knew, that was everything I ever needed, right there.
I'm proud of myself for getting us both here, for doing exactly what I wanted or needed to do instead of spending a lifetime waiting for someone else to help get us there.
An entire childhood of feeling like you're left hanging does do that to you - fill you with this constant inexplicable desire to actually DO things and GET SHIT DONE.
If I want to go back to school - I'll make it fit with what I need so I can juggle work and studies. I'll pay for it, no one else owes it to me.
If I want to be a mom - making sure I'm financially stable and able to give it the life it deserves.
If I want to perform at a bar, or do a painting or have a showcase of one-person plays over the span of an hour -
If I want something, I'll get it.
And I guess it seemed more like an accidental by-product of circumstance that I never stopped to give myself credit. But here, now, six months in our new home, together and filled with a happiness I thought I had long forgotten - she crawls into my lap, dozing off as we watch telly and I run my fingers through her hair.
She is so much more settled here. So much more sure of herself.
I keep taking it all in.
For once, not second-guessing this happiness. Not wondering if I'm fooling myself into thinking that I won't eventually lose it.
My favourite season is round the corner.
And, just like leaves start falling in love with the ground,
I find myself falling in love with life,
All over again.