Staying still, moving on

Time in Saint-Émilion felt temporarily suspended.

Wandering through sprawling vineyards, château courtyards, cobblestone streets and centuries-old underground wine caves, it seemed as though time had briefly slowed.

Or maybe it felt like that because it was what I wanted: to pause life for a little while and stop it from moving forward.

I knew that when returning home, I would soon be saying farewell to a friend leaving the country - something that carried a sadness I wasn't ready for. I could also no longer avoid the bigger questions about work, direction, and what comes next.

One afternoon, sitting in the 14th-century Les Cordeliers cloister with a glass of Crémant de Bordeaux sparkling in the last rays of sun, I found myself wanting to hold onto that moment. That feeling of being still in the presence of history, tradition and wine quietly aging in barrels - while knowing that life outside was moving forward.

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Part of me was looking forward to home: conversations, love and friendship, and the people waiting there.

And part of me wished I could remain among the vineyards a little longer, holding onto that moment before stepping back into everything waiting on the other side of the flight home.

Returning home from the vineyards of Saint-Émilion felt bittersweet