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As restrictions started to lift, a friend suggested that we go and stay at her family's old cottage in the countryside for a couple of nights. I was unsure at first, tired from uni assignments and exhausted at the thought of travelling several hours. But I had barely left my house in two months, and the prospect of getting out of town and spending some time with friends was impossible to resist. I said yes, and before I knew it, I and my two friends were driving out of the city. 

After a three hour drive, we pulled up at a tiny old farmhouse painted white and nestled between paddocks where cows were grazing sleepily. The cosy little kitchen was completely decked out in old pots, pans and kitchen gadgets from the 1950s. I squealed as a mouse scuttered across the floor. As I explored the house further I became completely charmed by the place, loving it even more for its peeling paint and lack of phone reception. 

As we settled into our little getaway, I felt myself relaxing. That evening after a few drinks around the little kitchen table, I suddenly burst into tears! I hadn't realised how stressed I was until that moment. I realised I had so many worries and emotions that had built up, and it was such a huge relief to be with my dear friends and away from it all, even for a short time. 

We spent the next day playing music, reading in the sun, and driving to a nearby beach where we had an dip in the cold ocean. As we drove back to the cottage, a purple and orange sunset spread across the sky. We lit a campfire and kept ourselves warm underneath the stars. 

When it came time to leave, I felt ten times better than I had when I arrived. I felt rested and content, and knew I would be more capable of handling whatever the week had in store. It was a reminder that whenever I have the chance to go on an adventure, however small, I should take it.