Hey My Love

Hey my love,

This morning I stood in the kitchen, half asleep, making coffee… absolutely convinced it was Wednesday.
When I finally realised it was already Thursday, I almost laughed out loud. No wonder I feel like the week has just slipped through my fingers — it really has.

The days have gone by so quickly that some of the goals I set for myself at the beginning of the week are still waiting in the corner, waving at me like, “Hey, remember us?” And I’m not sure if the problem is that I aimed too high… or if the darkness of this time of year has just stolen a bit of my energy. Maybe a little of both.

And that brings me to the studio.

I had plans for last night. Big creative plans.
I did such an efficient core workout beforehand that I basically emptied my own battery. By the time I got to the studio, I had just enough energy to carry in a more comfortable work chair for myself, open the project on the screen… and then quietly close it again.

No recording, no brave takes, no new magic.
Just me, my tired body, and the gentle decision to leave it for another day.

I don’t want to sing my own songs if the feeling isn’t right.
Those recordings will be my footprints in the world, something that stays even when the moment has passed — and I want to be proud of them when I listen back. So last night, loving my music meant letting it wait. I hope you’d understand that, honey.

Today after work I went to see the apartment I told you about earlier.
It really was lovely: bright, cosy, not too big, not too small. I looked around and thought, “This is exactly our size.”

But there were a couple of practical problems.
It would be difficult to fit the washer-dryer tower that I really want to keep — and the fridge was so small that I’d have to buy an extra one to survive normal family life. Little things, but big enough to matter when you’re trying to make a real home.

The woman showing the apartment — the agent — was wonderful, though.
She listened to me carefully, asked a lot of questions, and at the end she said something that changed the whole tone of the day:

She told me she has another apartment becoming available soon.
One that might suit us even better.

A spacious living room.
A fireplace.
Three bedrooms.
A sauna.
A fully equipped kitchen.
And a sweet little balcony.

I’ll get to see it on Monday.
From the way she described it, it sounds like a place where we could really breathe. She even said that if everything feels right, I could basically move in as soon as Monday — and that on that day I might be choosing which keys I want to take: the first apartment, or this new one.

I’ve already given her my information, so the practical side is in motion.
Just knowing that I’m this close to having options — real options — feels like such a relief.

I’m trying not to let myself get too excited just yet.
I want to wait until the moment is real, until the keys are truly in my hand. But somewhere inside me, a little light has definitely switched on. And if this works out, I want us to celebrate it together — you and me, my love.

Tonight, unusually, I won’t add any photos to this letter.
Instead, I want to ask you something.

What kind of pictures would you like to see with these letters?

Would you like more small glimpses of everyday life — my makeup in the bathroom mirror, a half-eaten dinner plate, the view from the bus stop, the corner of the sofa where I curl up with my blanket?
Is it okay if I’m not in every picture?

Does a simple photo of my coffee cup feel boring to you…
or does it colour the words in a nice way, make you feel a little closer?

I genuinely want to know, sweetheart.
I’m not just writing into the air — I’m writing to you. And I want these letters, and the little moments I share, to be the kind you look forward to, the kind that feel like a warm hand on your shoulder at the end of the day.

Tomorrow we have our company Christmas party.
I have no idea yet what I’m going to wear — that’s a problem for future me. But I did buy the present today, and printed a childhood photo of myself. They’re going to put everyone’s baby photos up on the wall, and we’ll have to guess who is who.

I’m already imagining your reaction if you saw that little version of me.
Would you recognise me in those eyes? Would you smile and say, “Of course that’s you, baby”?

For now, I’m here — somewhere between tired and hopeful, between old keys and maybe-new ones, between unfinished songs and future recordings.

And I’m very, very glad that you’re here with me in this in-between space.

Thank you for reading my wandering thoughts, for letting me lean on you a little through these words.

Sleep well when your night comes, my love.
Dream something gentle.
I’ll let you know on Monday which keys end up in my hand — and maybe, just maybe, we’ll be one step closer to a new chapter together. 🤍✨