the quiet return

There was a time when I couldn’t remember the sound of my own laughter - it had been so long since I’d let myself forget the weight of yesterday. But today, I woke to the light that isn’t harsh, to the air that isn’t so heavy with what was. I don’t need to push it all away anymore - the grief, the ache, the silence. I’ve learned to sit with it, to let it breathe beside me without letting it drown me. I’ve started finding peace in the small things - the way the morning light spills across the floor, the taste of coffee that’s mine alone, the sound of my own feet steady on the ground, moving forward. I don’t have all the answers, but for the first time in a long while, I’m not looking for them. I’m here, just being, learning to love the space between who I was and who I’m becoming. It’s not perfect, but it's enough - the slow unraveling, the quiet return, and the feeling, finally, of being okay again.