This morning began with quiet talk of dinner plans. She woke late, yet still reminded me of routes and stops, nudging me toward steadiness. At the bus stop, a boy shifted away when I sat beside him. Moments later, he rose for an elderly woman — a small kindness, though it left behind the faint sting of distance.
I boarded bus 293. The familiar lady was still there, sitting quietly as if holding her own place in the rhythm of mornings. My steps carried me through familiar turns — toilet, crossing, lift, stairs — until I reached the company shuttle.
There, I greeted a familiar face, exchanged words about the awards with another, and felt the tug of laughter behind me. A name spoken too casually was met with a boundary, reminding me how some people guard their space. Yet in the same breath, a hand reached for mine, and I held it — steady, simple, anchoring.
Elsewhere, greetings arrived through messages: a gentle good morning, a supportive friend’s warmth. Each word reminded me that not all connections waver. Some remain, even in the noise.
Through it all, I sensed the mix of steadiness and shift — the quiet “ok” of one, the playful sparks and storms of another, the firm “hmm” of guidance, the persistent thread of support. Each voice carries its own weight, weaving into my day.
And me? I walked through it steady — carrying the silences, holding the hands offered, letting the boundaries stand where they must.
✨ Silent strengths live in the spaces between distance and closeness, between guidance and waiting. I carry them with me, steady as the road itself.
