Yesterday was pretty close to the perfect day — from my 5:27 pre-alarm alarm till the moment I turned off my reading light and fell asleep — and part of the reason it was so good was because of the one thing I dreaded most: I had agreed (what got into me?) to meet a PR exec after work for coffee in Harbor Town.

I have to skip all the details because of the time (and they’re good details, too!), but after the meeting, I drove across the street to the greenbelt park — one of my favorite places in the world — sat a few feet from the Mississippi River, took off my shoes, wrote in my little notebook, and waited for sunset. And took lots of pictures.

I haven’t been back at the greenbelt in three years. Three years. Sounds silly, considering it really is one of my favorite places — anywhere, ever — but the closest I’ve been in that time is parked in my car nearby. Several things happened in the past few years that made me feel like I’d lost My Special Place, that I’d given it away until it wasn’t mine anymore. It hurts.

I was telling that to a friend recently — about giving up one of my most sacred, special places — and she said, “It’s time for you to reclaim it. Make it yours again. Go there, take your shoes off and walk in the dirt, watch the sunset — I know you love watching sunsets — and make that special place yours again.”

So that’s exactly what I did: I began the process of reclaiming it. It brought this song to mind:

From “Girl,” Tori Amos, Little Earthquakes, 1992:

From in the shadow she calls.
And in the shadow she finds a way, finds a way.
And in the shadow she, clutching her faded photograph,
My image under her thumb. Yes, with a message for my heart.
Yes, with a message for my heart.

She’s been everybody else’s girl. Maybe one day she’ll be her own.
Everybody else’s girl, maybe one day she’ll be her own.
…
And in the mist there she rides, and castles are burning in my heart.
And as I twist I hold tight, and I ride to work
Every morning, wondering why:
“Sit in the chair and be good now,
And become all that they told you.”
The white coats enter her room, and I’m callin’ my baby,
Callin’ my baby, callin’ my baby,

Callin’ everybody else’s girl. Maybe one day she’ll be her own.
Everybody else’s girl, maybe one day she’ll be her own.

Have a fantabulous day. If you have a spot that’s all yours, spend a few minutes there today. You’ll thank me later.