10,143 steps
At the crack of dawn, I opened my door and stepped out on the front stoop.
“Don’t think I missed it,” Tess said as she cut across her lawn to mine. “I saw that drive of shame a few minutes ago. Just in the nick of time to walk, I might add.”
“No shame involved,” I said.
Rosie walked around the corner of the house. “You’re back together?”
I smiled. “Yes. We. Are. We talked and talked about everything, one of those great conversations that last forever. I stayed at his house last night so the lovebirds could have my house to themselves.”
“Good call,” Rosie said. “I bet they were up all night playing Dr. Frisky and Naughty Patient.”
I covered my face with my hands. “I’m never going to be able to unsee that, you know.”
“You mean the other lovebirds,” Tess said. “Holy curled toes, you’re practically glowing in the dark.”
“Holy no filter,” Rosie said. “Give her a break.”
I gave the original Noreen and the pumpkin quick pats as I jogged down the steps. Tess, Rosie and I started walking toward the beach. The stars were twinkling in a midnight blue sky. The smell of crunchy leaves and pine pitch mixed with just the perfect whiff of cool salt air.
“It was nice to sleep in for an extra hour, but I actually missed walking with you two yesterday,” Tess said. “Anyway, I was thinking—”
“Uh-oh,” Rosie and I said together.
Tess ignored us. “Next time we take a coddiromper, let’s go to Spain and walk the Camino. If we walk five hundred miles over thirty days, which one of you math phobics can tell me how many miles we’d have to walk per day?”
“Next time we take a flumadiddle,” Rosie said, “let’s do a walking tour of lavender labyrinths. There’s a great one at Cherry Point Farm in Shelby, Michigan. From there we can go to Bees ’n’ Blooms in Santa Rosa, California. And I’m sure we can Google up some more places that have them. A tour would be the perfect way for me to get some ideas for creating a labyrinth here. I’m already envisioning lavender labyrinth weddings—”
“Wait,” I said. “You’re going to do weddings at the lavender farm? For real?”
We stepped off the curb, took a left to our shortcut to the beach.
Rosie untied her octopus hat, tied it again. “Once I got back from the hospital, my husband and I stayed up half the night talking about the lavender farm and the land and all the possibilities. I’ve always been kind of resistant to the whole thing because it just seems like such a massive undertaking. But I think if we don’t go for it, we’re always going to wonder. Not that we know what it is. The first step is to talk to my dad and see what he and Lo want to do and how involved they want to be.”
I turned to look at Rosie. “Remember when I said that I never wanted to be tied down to a brick and mortar place again? I had no idea how rudderless I’d feel by now, like I’m not really a part of anything. So if you need help at any point . . .”
“Good to know,” Rosie said.
“Also,” I said, “Rick and I were talking last night about whether we might want to add on to his place, or maybe sell his place and he could move into mine—”
“Wow,” Rosie said. “That was quick.”
“Or slow,” I said, “depending how you look at it. In any case, I’ve spent way too long disaster fantasizing. Rick thinks I should take my time figuring out my ikigai, at least once I explained to him what ikigai means. And he’s making really good money, but if we weren’t carrying two places, that would take the pressure off even more. We’re both one hundred percent in now, and I’ve actually never been all that crazy about my house—”
“Other than the fabulous neighbors,” Tess said.
“Exactly,” I said. “So I told him that Rosie had mentioned the lots, and Rick and I both thought it might be a cool idea to build something that’s new for both of us. It could be so much fun getting creative together—”
“Clearly neither of you has ever been married to a contractor,” Rosie said. “Building a house together is a blast until the first of five quintillion things goes wrong.”
“Rick was also thinking,” I said. “That maybe there’d be some extra studio space available.”
“Wow, wow, wow,” Rosie said. “We could use the barn for art shows when we weren’t doing weddings. And Rick could be our sculptor in residence. And you could build a combined studio-slash-health coaching gym behind your new house.”
“What’s my name, Skip?” Tess said. “No way are you going to leave me out of this. It just so happens I talked to the hubernator last night. If you decide to subdivide the property, we might be interested in one of the lots. I think it would be the perfect place to park a tiny house. He thinks it would be a great place for an Airbnb rental when the tiny house turns out to be too tiny for us.”
“Oh, oh,” Rosie said. “Bestie Row!”
Tess and I both looked at her.
“You know,” Rosie said. “That place northwest of Austin, where those people who’ve been friends for twenty years bought ten acres of land overlooking the Llano River together and built tiny houses next to one other? Not that I followed it carefully or anything.”
“I’ve read about that,” Tess said. “It’s actually called Exit Strategy. Eight tiny cabins and a big gathering space with a kitchen and a guestroom. When the owners aren’t using it, they rent it through VRBO. Eco-friendly, energy efficient—”
“The porch has an octagonal picnic table,” Rosie said. “One side for each of the eight besties. And each cabin has a cantilevered butterfly roof—”
“To capture rainwater,” Tess said, “and divert it to huge storage cisterns. It’s even better than giving up single-use water bottles.”
“If we did something like that at the lavender farm,” Rosie said, “we could even host destination weddings and guests could have their own cabins.”
“Our parents would probably volunteer to be lavender wedding guinea pigs,” I said.
“You and Rick could make it a double wedding,” Rosie said.
“That’s just creepy,” I said.
“Yeah,” Tess said. “You and Rick would be smart to bypass the whole wedding thing entirely. Just elope and spend the money walking the Camino. Rosie and I will meet you there.”
“That sounds romantic,” Rosie said. “Okay, where was I? Each cabin would have its own lavender garden—”
“And a butterfly roof,” Tess said. “What about zoning for all this though? We already know from our clothesline activism that the town of Marshbury isn’t exactly known for being cutting edge.”
“Because it’s a farm,” Rosie said, “my husband thinks we can get it grandfathered in.”
Pink stripes appeared over the horizon, painting the sky in broad strokes of possibility. We stopped and turned toward the ocean to watch.
“My dad might want to keep the lavender farm just the way it is,” Rosie said.
“A lot could go wrong,” Tess said. “We could go from walking buddies to besties to frenemies in one fell swoop.”
“I’ve spent so much of my life worrying about all the things that can go wrong,” I said. “Let’s just dream big and make it happen.”
I reached into my leggings pocket, took out my tiny wooden turtle, opened the secret compartment and sent some wishes out to the universe.
Rosie, Tess and I were the early birds these days, but as we turned around and headed for home, other 40-to-forever women were coming out to greet the sun and walk the beach. Solo and in pairs and small groups, all with a burst of freedom in their cadence. Laughing and chatting as they gathered enough endorphins to propel them toward their next chapters.
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Keep turning the page to read an excerpt of Life Glows On: Reconnecting With Your Creativity to Make the Rest of Your Life the Best of Your Life.