I ran away for a picnic in the mountains today—just me, the fresh air, and the quiet that I’ve been craving. As a 41-year-old single mom, life tends to be noisy and chaotic. There’s always something pulling at my attention—work, school, chores—but up here, it’s just nature and me. The air is crisp, the kind that fills your lungs and makes you feel alive, and all around, I’m surrounded by lush greenery that stretches for miles.

I spread out my blanket, unpacked a simple lunch, and leaned back against an old oak tree. The silence is perfect—not the kind that feels empty, but the kind that’s full of life. I can hear birds chirping in the distance, the wind rustling through the trees, and the faint sound of a river nearby. It’s peaceful here, like the world has finally slowed down just enough for me to catch my breath.

Being a single mom isn’t easy. Most days, I’m juggling so many things, trying to be strong for my child, and still find time to take care of myself. But here, in this moment, I feel free—free from responsibilities, from expectations. It’s just me and the mountains, and I let that weight fall off my shoulders for a little while.

I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to fully relax. Life always feels like a race—getting my child to school, rushing to work, and making sure everything at home is in order. But sitting here, with the breeze gently brushing my skin, I realize how much I needed this. I needed to be reminded that it’s okay to take a break, to pause, and to let myself feel inspired by something bigger than my everyday routine.

The mountains have a way of making everything else seem small—my worries, my stress, the never-ending to-do list. Up here, I’m reminded of the beauty in simplicity. The sun is slowly beginning to dip, casting a warm golden glow over the peaks, and for a moment, I feel like I’m part of something greater.

I pick up my journal and start writing, capturing the thoughts and feelings I’ve been too busy to express lately. There’s so much I carry with me every day—love for my child, the pressure to be both mother and father, the constant balancing act. But up here, I’m just me, and that’s enough.

I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to do this again, but for now, I’m soaking in every bit of this mountain escape, letting it fill me with the kind of peace I can carry back home with me.