I reheated my tea three times and still drank it half-cold

Dear Delyara, The first time I forgot it because the post came. The second time because my daughter couldn’t find her tights. The third time because I remembered the message from school and went to find my phone before I forgot again. By the end of it, the tea was no one’s fault and still somehow a perfect summary of the day. I sometimes think my life is made up of interrupted kindnesses toward myself. Small attempts. Small failures. The cup put down. The meal delayed. The bath cut short. The book unread. The shower interrupted. Not tragedy, just erosion. I drank the tea anyway. Standing by the sink, looking out at the fence, not tasting much of it. It wasn’t really about tea. It rarely is.