My friend took a sheet of paper and put it on the table.

It was too big for the table, really.

She started writing.

A word in one corner. An arrow. Something crossed out. Another thought underneath it. Her handwriting moved across the page until there was hardly any white left.

I watched her.

“What are you doing?”

She didn't really answer.

She kept writing.

Somewhere in the middle of the page were the words:

I am a mother, not a machine.

I laughed.

Then I went home and thought about it.

Because I know that machine.

It wakes up before everyone else. It remembers who needs to be where. It knows what is in the fridge. It answers the message it didn't want to answer. It puts something in the washing machine while listening to somebody else's problem.

It keeps going.

And nobody asks the machine what it wants.

Until one day it does something strange.

It takes out a piece of paper.

And starts writing.

Not a plan.

Not a budget.

Not a list of things everyone else needs.

Just:

I want...

And perhaps that is where the trouble begins.

Because once you have spent years asking what needs to be done, the question of what you want can feel almost indecent.

So I started wondering about the things we cross out before anyone else has had the chance to tell us no.

The idea that is too expensive.

The ambition that comes at the wrong time.

The thing we would do if nobody needed us for an afternoon.

The life we imagine and immediately begin dismantling with practical questions.

How much?

When?

Who will look after everyone?

What if it doesn't work?

And somewhere underneath all those questions is the one we stopped asking.

What if it does?

In this walk

00:00 — If you see things differently

A large piece of paper. A mind refusing to behave itself.

01:15 — I am a mother, not a machine

A sentence in the middle of the page, and the thought that wouldn't leave me alone.

03:05 — The things we remember

Breakfast. School. Messages. Laundry. All the things that somehow become your responsibility without anyone announcing the transfer of ownership.

05:00 — Before you make a plan

What happens when you allow yourself to have an idea before asking whether it is sensible?

06:45 — What do you want?

Not what can you manage. Not what everyone else needs. What do you want?

08:25 — We are not Bob the Builder

Some things don't need fixing. Some people don't need rescuing. Some things may simply need to move out of the way.

10:00 — They are watching us

The things the next generation learns from the lives we live.

11:15 — I am a person

Perhaps the point isn't learning to carry more. Perhaps it is learning what we can finally put down.

12:00 — Walk good

If you see things differently, welcome.

A question to walk with

What would you want if you didn't have to explain how you were going to make it happen?

Don't answer it immediately.

Let it walk beside you.

Be Walking with Nicky

A podcast about walking, thinking, difference, motherhood, ambition, and the peculiar business of being a person.

Sometimes there is a guest.

Sometimes there is only a road and a thought that refuses to leave.

If you see things differently, welcome.

Listen. Walk. Think.

And if something in this episode follows you after you've stopped listening, perhaps that's where the real conversation begins.

Walk good.

Spirandi Ombrevôtre

Be Walking with Nicky is available on Substack, Spotify and YouTube.

Subscribe if you want to walk with me again

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Thank you to everyone who tuned into my live video! Join me for my next live video in the app.Authenticity Gets Lost in Translation

Black History Month: What Gets Lost in Translation?

Notice

Author’s Note

This year’s Black History Month 2026 theme is Honouring Our Communities. The theme recognises the people, relationships and everyday contributions that shape and sustain our lives. [blackhisto...nth.org.uk]

As I was writing this piece, I realised that’s really what I’ve been trying to build here all along.Not a following.Not an audience.A community.

A place for people who find themselves moving between worlds, asking difficult questions, figuring things out while living them.

Many of us arrive here through different routes. Some from Jamaica. Some from elsewhere. Some carrying multiple versions of home. Some trying to find one.

Yet week after week, you keep showing up.

Reading.

Reflecting.

Replying.

Sharing pieces of your own story.

In a world that often encourages speed, certainty and performance, I’m grateful for a corner of the internet where curiosity, conversation and honest reflection still have room to breathe.

So during Black History Month, I’m thinking about the communities that raised us, carried us, challenged us and helped us become who we are.

And I’m grateful for the one we’re building together here.

✨ Come for the walk. Stay for the thought.

If you want to build a network. Space to journal and meet writers. I am building that one subscriber at a time.

Free subscribers, this is where I lose you.

The rest is for the black sheep of this community.

The ones who’ve always felt a little out of place.

The ones building businesses, books, movements, ideas and futures that don’t fit neatly into a job title.

The subscription costs less than a sandwich.

But this was never about paying for content.

Content is everywhere.

What’s rare is finding your people.

My words are just the invitation.

The real value is the conversations, connections, opportunities and collaborations that happen because the right people keep showing up in the same room.

If you’re still reading, you already understand.

We’re not building an audience.

We’re building an ecosystem.

And ecosystems outlive orchards. ✨