For one evening I was not fighting anything

Dear Delyara, Not my past, not my body, not my bank balance, not my unfinished list, not somebody else’s tone from earlier in the day. For one evening, none of it had to be solved before I was allowed to sit quietly. That peace was not dramatic. I almost missed it because nothing in particular announced itself. It was just the absence of internal war. I made soup, folded washing, lit one lamp, and existed without mentally prosecuting my own life. I want more evenings like that. But even one is worth writing down.