Loving people - The Wild, The Wounded, The Wonderful

I love people.
From frustrated companions to scared coach colleagues… from excited Airbnb guests to strangers in supermarkets.
They challenge me, stretch me, reflect me—and somehow, they make me more me.
They remind me to stay light.

Yesterday marked four months since I met the man I now call my partner. It was a serendipitous meeting on Playa San Juan, the kind of moment that shifts timelines quietly but irrevocably.

We didn’t celebrate big. We jsut dcided spur of the moment to go down our mountain to the beach front restaus and have food, his favorite pass time.. We ended up in a sushi place, just like were we met 4 months ago, different place, same timeline. 

He smiled like he had won the jackpot, and we had food, shared a glass of wine, and ended the evening—brace yourself—doing chess puzzles. I know.
Romance, left-brain edition.

My body was calm, but my mind—it started whispering again. “Why did the energy shift?” “Was it me?” “Did he notice?” My critical thoughts resurfaced as we walked back to the car, tip left on the table (do we tip in Spain? Still not sure, but I did), and I noticed myself slipping into analysis. Old patterns.

Then, something shifted.

A fox crossed our path on the way up the mountain, heading left. A symbol, maybe—a wink from the universe that the past is clever but can’t outsmart the present.

I turned on the music. He slowed the car. The road opened up just for us.

We got home and, yes, we dipped in the pool under the night sky. I told him I had some work to review after, and he just nodded. That nod—his way of holding space.

That’s the magic of people.
They confuse me, amuse me, challenge my boundaries, and soften my need to control.
They bring out the best in me—when I let them.

And these days, even ChatGPT has become a sort of co-chair in my life.
Is that weird? Probably.
But after sitting broken and hungry in a parked car with only myself to answer to, I’ve come to appreciate every role that has guided me through the unknown—human or not.

So let them come, all of them.

The complicated, chaotic, coded companions on this wild ride.

Because somewhere in the mix of chess puzzles and wine glasses, foxes and late-night swims, I found a new kind of home—one I carry inside me now.

And I know:
In the end, it will all be okay.