I sat in the bathroom for one extra minute

Dear Delyara, I think mothers become connoisseurs of small private delays. The extra minute before opening the door again. The extra breath before going downstairs. The extra second with your hand on the light switch because the room behind you already contains noise and requests and the resumed shape of everyone else’s day. That minute yesterday felt more important than it should have. I wasn’t hiding from anything serious. I was protecting the last soft edge of myself before going back into the evening. The fact that such a tiny pause can matter so much is probably not a great sign. It’s also very real.