the ghost of weight, right here, pressed into my ribs, a dull throb that used to feel like a constant reminder of everything that had been taken, everything that was too much, but now it’s just… a resonance, a humming echo of their small bodies against mine, and in that pulse, everything else just slips away, the scattered legos i know are waiting, the cold coffee getting colder somewhere, even the faint whiff of stale goldfish from the minivan. it just dissolves, not because the chaos disappears, but because for one breathless second, i remember what all this shedding was for, that even when i was GONE under the laundry pile, this specific, impossible tenderness was already forming, slowly, patiently, making space in the cavern of my own making, and it’s always just enough, always just what i need to catch myself before i drift too far into the endless to-do lists that still pull at the edges of my vision, chris probably won't get it, but it's not for him to get, it's just this, this deep acceptance that has become my compass, my own quiet miracle.