Sometimes starting over looks nothing like the vision board.
It doesn’t always come with a new house, a perfect morning routine, matching luggage, a passport full of stamps, and somebody taking pictures while you sip something expensive on a balcony.
Sometimes starting over looks like sitting at your kitchen table with a plate of food you made yourself, realizing that for the first time in a long time, nobody is disturbing your peace.
And that is beautiful too.
I have learned that a fresh start doesn’t always announce itself.
Sometimes it quietly enters your life after loss.
After betrayal.
After disappointment.
After you finally stop answering the phone.
After you stop explaining yourself.
After you stop trying to make people understand why you had to choose yourself.
There are seasons when rebuilding your life doesn’t look exciting from the outside.
But inside?
Everything is changing.
Kitchen Table Truth
Some of the biggest conversations I have with myself happen at the kitchen table.
No audience.
No performance.
Just me, my thoughts, something good to eat, and the truth.
There is something sacred about preparing food when you’re rebuilding yourself.
Cutting vegetables.
Seasoning meat.
Stirring a pot.
Making cornbread.
Fixing yourself a plate instead of eating whatever you can grab because you’ve spent the entire day taking care of everybody except yourself.
Food can remind you that you are still here.
There were women before us who understood that a kitchen could be more than a kitchen.
It could be a gathering place.
A prayer room.
A counseling office.
A place where family history was passed down without anybody calling it history.
Recipes carried stories.
Hands remembered measurements that were never written down.
A pinch of this.
A little more of that.
Cook it until your ancestors whisper, That’s enough.
Sometimes healing is spiritual
You must be logged in to post a comment.