I put my daughter in the pram, pulled on my runners and walked away from home with no goals, no direction.
I turned up a road I've not travelled before. The dappled sunlight warmed my skin through the canopy of hundreds of gum trees.
I marvelled as the vista opened up to endless fields. The occasional house dotted the landscape but mostly it was just me, my pram, my girl and the road.
The crunch of the tyres as the tar gave way to dirt lulled my daughter to sleep and I was alone.
I realised after a while that I should turn back, but stubbornly kept walking. Away from the endless laundry, the dishes to be washed, the toddler tantrums, the meltdowns, the sleepless nights. Away from what I knew and into the unknown.
Later, when I was as far from home as I had ever been, I wondered if I would keep walking forever.
I reached the crest of a hill and looked at what lay before me. It was stark, and beautiful, and quiet.
I turned around.
The road was thick and sandy, my progress was heavy. But I was determined.
Eventually I found firmer footing. I looked back over my shoulder at how far I had come.
I went for a walk today. And then I came home.