#289 – The quiet side of nowhere, a novella chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

The fire crackles, and the dog lies at my feet, his steady breathing filling the silence. I can hear the wind outside, stronger now, rustling the leaves in the trees. The night is creeping in, but it doesn’t feel like darkness anymore. It feels like something else. Something soft, like the closing of a chapter.

It’s funny, isn’t it? How life can sneak up on you. One minute, you’re searching for peace, thinking it’s something you have to find. And the next, you realize peace was always there, right under your nose. It was in the small moments—the way the dog looks at me, the way the trees sway in the wind, the way the sun rises and sets every day without fail.

I’ve spent years thinking I was running from something. But maybe I wasn’t running at all. Maybe I was just looking for a place to stop. A place to let the weight of the world slide off my shoulders. I’ve found that place now. And it’s not so much a place as it is a feeling—a quiet understanding that, for all the things I haven’t done, I’ve done enough.

I don’t need to keep searching. Not anymore. The world can keep spinning, and I’ll keep living here, in this little cabin on the edge of nowhere. Maybe it’s small, and maybe it’s not much, but it’s mine. It’s more than I ever thought I’d have.

The dog stirs, lifting his head and looking at me with those knowing eyes. He doesn’t need to say anything, but I can tell. He’s content too. Maybe that’s all we need. Just to know that we’ve found our spot in the world and that, for now, that’s enough.

I stand up, stretch, and look out the window at the stars starting to pierce the dark sky. There’s something about the stars here—they feel closer, like they’re just out of reach, but always present. Maybe they’re a reminder that there’s more out there than we can see, that the world is bigger than our little worries. Maybe they’re a reminder that, no matter how far we go or how much we lose, there’s always something beautiful waiting for us, even in the darkest of times.

I smile to myself, feeling the weight of the day leave me completely. I walk over to the stove, throw another log on the fire, and sit back down. The dog curls up at my feet again, and we sit there together, the warmth of the fire chasing away the chill of the night.

For the first time in a long time, I feel completely at peace.

Maybe that’s what this life is all about. Not finding something to fix, but just finding a place where you can stop and let the world move around you. A place where you can be who you are, without apology or expectation. And here, in this cabin, with the dog at my side and the fire burning steady, I’ve found that place.

It’s enough.