Reacquainting myself with the person I’m quietly becoming. There's a rhythm, not out of resignation, but recognition. Long enough to know that most answers aren't urgent, and that understanding often arrives long after the need for it has passed. The self-inquiry that once felt like excavation has become something gentler—a tending to or maintenance. Not expecting resolution from most tensions, nor clarity from all aches. Some things just like accompanying.
Sobriety has made that painfully more obvious, less to find comforting, more to listen. Double takes, out of habit more than hope—just part of the architecture now—and that’s fine.
Not everything demands interpretation and some truths arrive late. Still, I sit with them. I watch the light shift across the room and let most moments decide what they wanna be.