A Soft Return
It’s been a while.
Life has been loud in ways that leave no room for breath, and I’ve been moving through it as gently as I can. Some seasons ask for silence, and I’ve been learning to honour that without apology.
But today reminded me why I come back to this space. Why I write, why I notice, why I keep choosing beauty even when the world forgets to show it.
Someone wandered through my older work elsewhere with a kind of care I didn’t expect. Not a quick scroll, not a passing glance — but a slow, deliberate walking‑through.
A pause here.
A breath there.
Small lanterns left along the path.
It steadied me more than I realised I needed.
There’s something grounding about knowing that the pieces I wrote in quieter, harder moments still reach someone else in theirs.
That the noticing I do to keep myself upright can offer someone else a place to rest for a moment. That beauty — the real kind, the kind that doesn’t demand anything — still finds its way through.
So here I am again, returning to the quiet.
To the soft edges.
To the places where breath slows and the world feels a little less sharp.
I’ll be here when I’m here,
writing when the words come,
resting when they don’t,
letting this space grow at its own pace.
For now, I’m simply grateful to be finding my way back.
