Reflections on duty, motherhood, and quiet moments that keep us moving
Lately, I’ve been carrying a heaviness that words can’t always express.
Maybe you’ve felt that way too — the kind that settles deep in your bones and follows you everywhere.
Some days, life feels like a long line of duties: work, family, responsibilities, and tasks that never seem to end.
Even in quiet moments, exhaustion lingers. It can be hard to feel truly alive or noticed.
Sometimes I feel like I’m just going through the motions, doing what must be done.
The part of me that dreams, hopes, or longs quietly waits, watching for a small spark to break through.
Even in the heaviness, small glimpses appear — a child’s laugh, the warmth of a cup of tea, a few pages of a book, a deep breath in the evening.
These tiny moments remind me that life still has softness, even when it feels as though it has paused.
Some nights, the silence feels heavy, and I notice how much I long for days filled with more than obligation.
And yet, in those quiet moments, I see glimpses of light — fragile, fleeting, but enough to keep moving forward.
Even when the days feel long or weighty, these small reminders stay with me, urging me to notice what truly matters.
Life may feel paused, but it’s never truly still.
Somewhere in the quiet, it continues to move — gently, persistently, full of unseen possibilities.
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