Today I Didn't Cook, Went Out for a Walk
Hello Steemians lovers.
Today I want to go out with my husband to eat. Finally, there's a day that's not "later" or "tomorrow."
Today. It's a simple sentence, but in my head it feels like tidying up a small plan that's been waiting for its turn. No need to go far. No need for an expensive place. Just leave the house together, sit at the table, and order food we both like. No need to cook, no need to rush. Just us, our spoons, and a conversation that isn't rushed.
I've imagined it, him opening the door for me, me sitting against him while watching him choose from the menu. It's like when we were dating, but now it's more relaxed. No more nervousness waiting for him to arrive. There's just the comfort of knowing he'll definitely come. Eating out isn't about the food. It's about taking a break from being the "housewife who takes care of the house" for a moment and returning to being the "woman who gets asked out on a date."
About laughing because the soup splattered, about the last bite that everyone always fought over.
The sky today is a bright blue and white, and the wind isn't too bad. It's perfect for an afternoon walk, stopping at a food stall with yellow lights. I'll return home with a full stomach and a full heart. My prayer is simple: I hope our journey goes smoothly, the place isn't crowded,
and our conversation today will be one of the most memorable. The stove is taking a break today. The pots too. I close the recipe book, hang my apron on the hanger. I tell the kitchen, "Let's take a break."
My hands are usually busy all day: mixing dough, tasting flavors, washing endless dishes. Today I want my hands empty. Empty so I can hold hands.
Empty so I can hold the menu, point to pictures of food, laugh at the wrong order. Being free from household chores feels like taking off sandals after a day of wearing heels. No one ordering you around, no one waiting. It's just my husband and I, and the path we choose for ourselves.
The house is still safe there. Dirty dishes can wait until tomorrow. Today, it's my turn to be taken care of. It's my turn to be fed, to be asked, "Do you want more?"
It's my turn to be a guest at someone else's table, not the host in my own kitchen.
This doesn't mean I don't love cooking. I do. But love also needs a break. So that when I return to the stove, I still feel longing, not tired. So, today I choose freedom. Freedom from the pan, freedom from the timer, freedom from "Is it cooked yet?"
Today, I want to be a woman who only thinks, what would be delicious to eat?
After that, I went to the beach to entertain myself while watching the beautiful sunset.
My stomach was full from eating out, now it was my heart's turn to be satisfied.
We weren't in a rush to go home. My husband invited me for a walk, eventually stopping at the beach.
The sand was still warm from the afternoon sun, the wind carrying salt and stories from the open sea.
I took off my sandals and let my feet play in the small waves that came and went.
I didn't say much. Sometimes there's no need. I just sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder, watching the sky slowly change its color. The sun was starting to set. Orange, gold, then purplish red.
Its light fell onto the water, breaking into thousands of stars that didn't need night to appear. I remembered the bright blue and white sky this morning. This afternoon, it said goodbye in the most luxurious color.
I didn't ask for the sun to stop. I just asked for time to see it all the way through. Because beauty is meant to be enjoyed to the end, not left halfway through. Today I didn't cook, I didn't clean, I wasn't in a rush.
But I came home with three things: a full stomach, a hand held, and eyes that had seen heaven on earth.
A serene greeting from the shore,
where the sun taught me how to say goodbye gracefully.
Thanks You.
