Dear Diary: I Drove to Target and Didn’t Even Go In

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Okay, so here’s what I did the other day… I drove to Target. Fully pulled in, parked, turned the car off—and then just… sat there. Didn’t go in. Didn’t even think about going in.

Not because I was hiding from screaming kids in the backseat—those days are gone. Honestly, my house is so quiet now it’s creepy. Like… I could absolutely go inside and wander the aisles like a normal person, but I didn’t. I just sat there. In silence. With the seat warmer on. In June. Because I’m apparently now a person who self-soothes with heated butt cheeks.

And I’m telling you, it was kind of glorious.

No podcast. No to-do list. No agenda. Just me and the realization that I didn’t need to be anywhere, or do anything, or fix anyone’s snack crisis. That little sliver of stillness? It felt like rebellion and a nap at the same time.

This stage of life is weird. We’re not in the trenches anymore. Nobody’s hanging on our leg while we pee. But the quiet hits different now. It’s not stolen—it’s just… there. And some days, I don’t know what the hell to do with it.

So yeah, I drove to Target. And I didn’t even go in. Just sat in my car and stared out the windshield like I was solving world peace. And maybe I was. Maybe that’s just what it looks like now.