The colour pink. The smell of freshly mown grass. Walking the streets of Madrid in the month of May. Having a glass of wine with my husband on the terrace of our favourite bar in Madrid. The sound of my eldest daughter laughing. The touch of the little hands of my youngest daughter on my back as she hugs me. Getting a coffee and a cardamom bun at our favourite coffee place in Amsterdam and, while sipping it, going to the park to watch our children play in the playground. Eating my husbands’ pizza on Fridays. Coming home after a day at the beach with our toes full of sand. What do these things have in common you ask? They are matters of the heart.

My sister is moving back to the capital. Soon she and her family will be no more than fifteen minutes away, hooray! Like me, she is no stranger to moving house as this will be her fourteenth house. We were talking about (well, basically we send each other messages on what’s app that expand into conversations) how for many people moving house is a major life event that is almost incomprehensible. She told me: “I just don’t get that. You just pack up your stuff, put it in the new house and you’ve moved house”. I feel the exact same way. Every year in spring, as the first rays of sunlight enter through the windows and sparks of green are showing on the trees, I get a feeling of new beginnings. Let’s start afresh in a new house, why don’t we? Of course this isn’t feasible, but I really wouldn’t mind moving again and again. But as I’ve made selling and letting houses my professional career, I’ve watched and guided many people making a decision that was arguably one of the most important decisions they had made in their lives.

I am no stranger to the successful stories of people who worked in corporate life, got a burn out and resolved to yoga, meditation or other philosophies to heal from the mental and physical issues that come from this awful disease. Some of them return happily to the office, but I’ve also encountered many people who have taken the opportunity to never return to their former lives but instead choose a different, more spiritually inspired path. I on the other hand have never been one to take on anything spiritual. I didn’t feel like I was walking a spiritual path at all.

I was raised with the notion that you have to go to school in order to be able to go to a good high school. And then you have to do your best to graduate at a decent level, which will take you to University. Because after you’ve received your University diploma, you will be able to get a good job. And then you have to try and not only hold on the job, but also to become better at it and get an even better job with matching salary. And then…well, I wasn’t taught what happens next.

Do you know the fable of the cricket and the ant by Jean de la Fontaine? The ant works relentlessly to collect food for the coming winter, while the cricket entertains her by singing to her. Spoiler alert: come wintertime the cricket doesn’t have any food, because he was otherwise occupied. The ant however refuses to give him some of her food, even though he claims he made her hard work easier by singing to her. The moral of this story officially is that the arts aren’t supposed to be considered work and he who doesn’t work, doesn’t eat. As a young girl I interpreted the story a little different. I was very impressed with the hard work the ant put in and I always made sure to give it my best, so I wouldn’t be cold and hungry in bad times.

My grandmother is about to die. I went to see her one autumn day in September and when I left, I knew this was probably the last time I saw her. So many memories went through my mind as I was there. I remember dancing in her garden in my ballet outfit. The sound of the frogs in the nearby pond that woke me up bright and early when I would stay over there during school holidays. The sight of my grandfather in his armchair by the window when we would arrive back in the days.