I took myself away. Just me and the quiet pull of somewhere new. A solo trip out to a place called the Bunker, tucked into open land near Freemans Reach. The kind of place where the air feels wider and your thoughts have room to stretch.

Step inside and it’s instant. Warmth. Thoughtfulness. Proof that small can be something truly spectacular. Every corner of the tiny home felt considered, like it was waiting just for me. A queen bed promising slow mornings and deep sleeps, soft sheets that smelled like home. A kitchen with everything I could ever need, though somehow I already knew I wouldn’t need much at all. The host had left a platter, a sweet welcome. Tasty treats laid out like an invitation to slow down and eat cheese. Gosh I love cheese!

I stood there for a moment just looking at it, already drifting into a daydream of the outdoor bath picnic.

Outside, the world stretched wide. Open space. Panoramic views that made everything else feel so far away. I lit the fire just before dusk, the crackle grounding me as the sky softened. Fires are also on my list of things I love in life. I began running the outdoor tub, steam rising gently into the cooling air. I bubbled up hard, no holding back, and set up my platter beside me like a little celebration. A celebration all for me. Then I sank in.

That evening I snuggled in, cosy and comfortable. The bed held me like it knew I needed rest. Not just sleep, but really good rest.

The next morning, storm clouds rolled in. Heavy and slow. They dimmed the light and shifted my plans, but not my mood. It felt like a quiet nudge from the universe. Stay in. Soften. Go inward. So that’s exactly what I did, cos we embrace the change. Cuppa teas in bed, warmth in my hands as I journaled thoughts that had been waiting patiently. The sound of rain became my soundtrack, steady and soothing. I sat outside under the verandah watching it all fall, the land drinking it in as the day slipped by.

A hair mask, a face mask, a chapter read filled my day and my heart. I bunked down to search within.

And somewhere in that stillness, I found a calm I didn’t realise I had been missing. When it came time to leave, I noticed it straight away. A fullness in my chest. A quiet peace. Like everything inside me had softened into place.

I drove to a nearby lookout with an open heart and mind. The sky still heavy, clouds hanging low like a curtain not quite ready to lift. By the time I reached the top, nothing had cleared. No grand reveal, no sweeping view.

Just mist. Rain. Silence. And somehow, it wasn’t what I wanted, but like the tiny home bunkin in, it was exactly what I needed.

I didn’t resist it. I felt the rain on my skin, let it soak in. I embraced the change, the unpredictability of life and all the glory. There was nothing to see out there, so I turned inward once again. And that was the view I was meant to find all along.