12 hours on shift. 4.5 hours on the road. Drenched to the bone and worn thin by the miles. 🌧️
Between road closures, knee-deep flooding, and necessary diversions, I huddled under a bus shelter just minutes from home. Then, the sky began to break. For the first time since we moved to this neighborhood, I stood still long enough to witness the sun rise. 🌅
I was looking for a dry place to hide, but I found a front-row seat to a new beginning. My first sunrise here wasn’t met on a balcony with a coffee; it was met in a bus shelter, soaked and tired, yet perfectly timed.
Shine found me exactly where I was forced to stop. Exhausted? Yes. But I guess it was a beautiful day after all. 😊✨
A recent house move has officially unlocked a whole new world of adventure for us, and I am absolutely buzzing with the energy of it all. This week marks such a special milestone as the kids start at their new school, and I am already picturing our walks home together. We aren’t just heading back to the house; we’re embarking on a daily expedition to discover every hidden gem in our new neighborhood.
I’ve already told the kids that our journey home is going to be a treasure hunt where we celebrate all our “firsts.” We’ll be keeping our eyes peeled for the first bird singing in the trees, the first tiny insect busy in the hedges, or even that first “perfect” puddle that’s just begging for a happy splash.
There is something so incredibly refreshing about trading the old, familiar routes for pavements we’ve never stepped on before. It is a beautiful reminder that no matter how many miles we’ve put behind us, life always has a fresh, sun-drenched turn waiting just around the corner if we are open to it.
I’m leaning into this season of discovery with a huge smile, and I hope you feel that same spark of curiosity in your own week. May you experience the pure, unadulterated joy of “firsts”—spot the bird, find the puddle, and remember that the best adventures are the ones that start right under your feet. 👣
Moving house is always a bit of a whirlwind, but I didn’t realize quite how much of a “blur” things were until a few days ago! We’ve been straddling two houses lately, updating addresses and juggling boxes, so when I got a notification that my long-awaited parcel had been delivered, I pounced on my phone.
There it was: a “proof of delivery” photo showing my package sitting proudly in front of a bright blue door. “Come on!” I screamed at the screen. “Whose door is this?!” I was so frustrated. I showed the photo to my husband and the kids, and we all had the same bewildered reaction.
I was already nursing a headache thinking about wandering the new street, knocking on strangers’ doors to find my parcel before we’d even properly met the neighbors.
I decided to check the GPS coordinates on the delivery slip, put them into my phone, and lo and behold… it turns out, the mysterious blue door was totally ours—we just hadn’t noticed what it looked like! 😂
We all burst into the kind of laughter that makes your stomach ache. It turned into such a hilarious “welcome home” moment that it inspired a new family game called “How Well Do You Know Your House?” We spent the rest of the day testing each other on the little details we’d missed, and the laughter didn’t stop. It’s a memory I’ll keep close to my heart forever.
Sometimes, the best way to find your way in a new place is to realize you don’t even know which door is yours yet! It’s a beautiful reminder to slow down, look up, and truly see the world right in front of you.
May your week be full of “blue door” moments—the kind of surprises that turn a little frustration into a lifetime of laughter. 👣✨💙
A new piano arrived in our home a few days ago, and ever since, the house has been alive with the sound of discovery. Yesterday morning, I woke up to the grand, sweeping notes of the Game of Thrones theme drifting through the air. It was my son, lost in his practice, and it was such a joy to witness his focus. I told him how much I loved hearing him play, but then I shared a little piece of my heart: I told him that my all-time favorite hymn is Amazing Grace. Without a second thought, he looked at me and promised he would learn it just for me.
I didn’t realize how much that promise meant until this morning. I was on the bus heading home from work when my phone rang. “Mum,” he said, his voice full of excitement, “I’ve been practicing and I just want to play this for you right now.” I pressed the phone close to my ear, and as the first tender notes of Amazing Grace began to play, my heart simply melted. I sat there with goosebumps prickling my skin, listening to him play it so beautifully after only one day of practice.
In that moment, the world felt so still and so right. A gift of love wrapped in melody. He mastered those notes in twenty-four hours just to see me smile, and it truly made my day. It’s a beautiful reminder that the loudest joys often come in the quietest, most thoughtful moments.
I hope your day brings you a “little joy” that makes you feel exactly like I do right now—completely and wonderfully loved. 🎹✨🙏🏾
If you think I’m disciplined now, you should have seen me years ago. I didn’t just have discipline; I had audacity.
I was laughing out loud today remembering a certain version of Olu. Specifically, the day I refused to eat at my own party. I was the guest of honor. The party was for me. The jollof was steaming and the cake was calling my name, but I sat there with my arms crossed, staging a one-woman boycott of my own joy.
Warning!!! This is no fable. This is a true story of a girl who was so committed to her drama that she wouldn’t even take a bite of her own celebration. 💅🏾😂
The reason for this grand protest? My crush didn’t turn up. 🤣💔 Since he wasn’t there to see me, I decided nobody—including my stomach—was going to enjoy that day!
I was thinking about that today as I unboxed my new, gorgeous retro pink mixer. As I got it ready to bake, I had one very specific prayer for my kids:
“Lord, please let them take after me in every way—my strength, my faith, my walk—EXCEPT THIS ONE.” If I spend my Sunday whisking up a masterpiece with this pink beauty and they decide to stage a “crush-related protest” at the table, we are going to have a serious talk! 🍰🎀
Looking back, I realize life is far too delicious to be that serious. I’ve traded the “striking” for “savoring.” Today, I’m not waiting for anyone to show up to give me permission to be happy. I’m eating the cake, I’m celebrating the miles, and I’m letting the joy be LOUD.
Whatever “strike” you’re holding onto today… let it go. The party is much more fun when you actually join in! 🥂✨💃🏾
They say life is a straight line, but my journey has been more of a dance between shadows and light. 🌒✨
There have been days of deep pain—the kind that reshapes you—and days of such intense joy that they take your breath away.
My path has been a wild mix of “I can’t do this” and “Look at me go.” It’s been messy, it’s been challenging, but it has also been incredibly beautiful.
Life isn’t one-dimensional, and neither am I. Today, I’m choosing to stand right here in the middle of it all, wrapped in gratitude. I have set my eyes on the horizon. The best is yet to come. 🥂👣🏠✨
I have relocated many times, crossing borders and oceans to build new nests, but the truth remains: I am deeply, achingly homesick. I walk for miles every day, tracing the pavements of this new life, yet no matter how far I travel, these miles never lead me closer to where I began. I am haunted by the “inevitable absence”—the quiet grief of knowing that back home, life is unfolding, faces are aging, and memories are being woven into a tapestry that I will never get to touch.
Lately, I find myself seeking home in the small things. I smile at the sight of a globe, my finger tracing that familiar line down the map like a prayer, a silent path back to my roots. My heart quickens at the sight of an ornament shaped like a drum, its silent rhythm echoing the pulse of my people. I fell in love with a piece of wall art—three women in vibrant, storied attires, carrying calabashes that hold more than just water; they hold a heritage.
I have stood frozen before a miniature hourglass, mesmerized by the concept of time—how it allows us to pour our whole hearts into one place today, only to demand we begin again elsewhere tomorrow. In the center of my home, I have fallen in love with a kitchen mat. It features five hens that my children and I have claimed as our own. I have named mine Ọdún. In my language, this means Festivity; it means The Year; it means the sacred cycle of celebration. Every time I stand upon it, I am transported back to the laughter of my loved ones, to the shared meals, and the warmth of a home that didn’t need to be searched for.
We are all growing older, separated by miles that the heart cannot reconcile. So this year, my soul has a single, urgent craving. I don’t just want a new year; I want Ọdún. I want the celebration of being present. I crave the hugs that don’t have to end, the sounds that settle in the spirit, and the warmth of a home that is no longer a memory, but a reality.
On a simple walk with my daughters today, we witnessed a scene that stopped us right in our tracks and brought the biggest, quietest smile to my face. There, side-by-side on the pavement, were a hawk and a pigeon.
Not flying above, not locked in a chase, but walking along together, almost like two neighbours sharing the sidewalk. My youngest daughter, her eyes wide with a beautiful blend of curiosity and wonder, turned to me and asked the inevitable question: “Mum, shouldn’t they be scared of each other?”
It was a brilliant question. Instinct and nature tell us the hawk is the predator, the pigeon is the prey. They are supposed to be worlds apart, defined by their differences. Yet, seeing them share the same path, calmly moving forward, felt like watching a tiny, spontaneous miracle unfold right there on our street.
This observation became the heartwarming lesson of our Mindful Mile.
That hawk and pigeon showed us the true gift of Finding Common Ground: They chose to focus on the current path they shared, ignoring the history or the instinct that might define them as conflict.
As the festive lights begin to glow and the traditional message of Peace on Earth is all around us, this image is the perfect reminder that harmony can bloom in the most unexpected places. This season encourages us to look past our differences. The magic is in realizing that we can choose connection over conflict, focusing on our shared humanity instead of what divides us.
Let’s carry the image of the hawk and the pigeon with us this week. When you encounter moments of stress or difference, remember the Peace on the Pavement: Choose to focus on the shared path and allow the beautiful possibility of harmony to define your steps. May this image bring you affirmation that connection is always possible, even in the midst of life’s many differences.
Mindful Miles 