I have no idea whether this is melancholy or nostalgia or just a short, grey November day. For the first time that I can recall, I feel lonely. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. I am used to enjoying solitude and my own company. And I still do. That hasn’t changed. What is different, is this missing someone – someone to bake for and cook for and just the presence of someone else. Caring about someone. Being cared about.

The good thing about this is that it’s not a bad feeling – not bad because it feels like love.

Lately, I have been feeling a lot of things. Maybe this is because I had not allowed myself to feel for some time – and maybe it’s just that I have chosen to be open and let the emotional chips fall where they may.

I don’t know.

For a long time I had the sense that the intellect had to overrule emotions – because my mind was stronger and more important than my emotional self. If I was feeling something uncomfortable, it was my job to reason it away.

What folly.

I have come to a place of honouring the me that is emotional, no matter how messy that is. My mind and my emotions are happily co-existing. Each one has a function – and hurrah for that!

And so I shall settle in for an early, dark-falling November evening: a big pot of soup perhaps – fresh baked bread – a good book. Feels about right.