I packed three lunches and forgot to make my own

Dear Delyara, This morning I lined up the lunchboxes on the counter like I always do. One wanted cucumber but no tomatoes. One wanted the yoghurt with the blue lid, not the red. One needed the little spoon. I cut fruit, wrapped sandwiches, checked the school bag for the snack policy letter, and found the missing water bottle under the sofa. Then I got to work around midday and realised I had nothing for myself. I laughed at first because it felt so predictable. Then I felt that small familiar ache. Not because of the food. Because it summed up something bigger. How easy it is for me to complete everybody else’s needs to the final detail and leave my own somewhere half-done without noticing until much later. I bought a sandwich from the café downstairs and ate it at my desk while answering emails. It was fine. Still, I came home thinking about how many women live like this — not dramatically neglected, just repeatedly placed after everyone else in tiny practical ways that slowly become a personality.