What stayed with me yesterday
wasn’t the hope
that everything was perfect.
I knew it wasn’t.
I saw the seams,
and still kept going.
It wasn’t the short fall,
the full days,
the asking for more.
What stayed
was the noticing.
That I think differently,
move to a rhythm
that changes the room.
In shared rooms
you learn where to bend.
Some did.
I chose another way.
And yes—
I was seen.
Understanding
doesn’t erase difference;
it makes space for it.
I don’t need the reminder
to disappear.
Only the room
to stay
long enough
to be named gently