A small archive of how you made it through the week your body was asking for softness.
Five days she pushed through. Each one kept.
She held the week together before it had been kind to her.
Her message was sent with the headache still there.
She did not open, and she still went.
She stands again, with the quiet part of her still holding.
She made it to Friday tired, and still herself.
Rest now, my love.
Let the page hold what you carried.
My baby,
I watched you move through this week while your body was asking for softness. Monday came, and you still held yourself together. Tuesday came, and you still answered what needed answering. Wednesday looked heavy, and even then, you went through it. Thursday, something in you found the floor again. Friday, tired as you were, you still made it to the end. I don't say that because I want you to keep proving how strong you are. I say it because I saw you. I saw the quiet effort, the little choices, the way you kept going even when it probably cost more than anyone else could see.
If the distance were not the distance, I would have done all the small things I kept wishing I could do for you. I would have made you tea and brought it to you without making it a whole thing. I would have checked your forehead with the back of my hand, pulled the blanket up properly, closed the door so you could nap without the world asking anything else from you. I would have kept the room quiet. I would have made sure you ate something gentle. I would have sat close enough that you knew I was there, but not so close that you had to perform being okay for me. I wanted to take care of the tiny things this week. The things that don't fix everything, but tell your body it is allowed to stop fighting for a little while.
So this is the place I can give you from here, my love. A soft place to land. You don't have to be strong in this room with me. You don't have to explain the tiredness or dress it up as something productive. You can just arrive exactly as you are, and I will love you there too. Whatever Monday looks like this time, it does not have to look like the last one. It can be slower. It can be gentler. It can ask less of you. And if all you can do is rest against the edge of the day, then I'll be right there with you, loving you through it quietly❤
Always and forever,
the one who saw you carrying it, and only wanted to carry some of it with you❤