This morning, someone reminded me not to push in a chair.
Another quietly moved her funds to support something I needed—
an act of care hidden in numbers.
I took the same bus.
Someone made noise,
but I smiled through it.
Not for them—
but to keep my own peace intact.
I noticed two women holding hands as I passed.
Then bumped into a row of bicycles,
my own clumsiness making me laugh inside.
I greeted someone.
She nodded, said good morning.
Her warmth felt reserved for another—
and maybe that’s okay.
Nearby, a boy whispered to a girl.
She left quickly.
Sometimes people disappear mid-story,
and we don’t get to know why.
Familiar greetings came from others.
A fist bump—twice—even as the bus aircon dripped on us.
Small joys.
Later, someone called out a detail—
“You said green, but it’s blue.”
It was.
I truly thought it was green.
Then more:
“You throw things at the side.”
But I cleaned up when she reached over.
“The gloves were dirty,” I said.
I’m still learning how to hold my emotions
without letting them spill.
Some days I succeed.
Some days I just try again.
---
Soft Thought of the Day:
“Even when others misunderstand,
may I still treat myself gently—
and rise with grace in the smallest of choices.”
