I ate dinner after everyone else and noticed how normal that has become

Dear Delyara, By the time everyone was served, someone needed more water, someone wanted different cutlery, someone had forgotten to bring their plate, and my husband was asking something practical about the weekend. Then the food cooled, and I told myself I’d sit once I’d sorted the last few things. I sat ten minutes later. Alone, mostly. That made me sad in a way it probably shouldn’t have. Not because I demand ceremony. Because I noticed how often my meals now happen after everyone else’s urgency has already passed through them first. It’s such a quiet form of erasure — one plate, one evening, one woman always arriving to herself second. I don’t want that to become invisible simply because it’s common.