I Smelled Toast at 10 p.m. and Realised One of the Children Was Still Hungry

Dear Delyara, Warm bread, butter, the quiet clink of plate against counter. I came downstairs and saw one child standing there in pyjamas making a second supper out of tiredness, growth, and the strange hunger children seem able to discover again just as a mother’s body has fully switched into “the kitchen is closed.” I wanted to be annoyed. Instead I felt sad and tender. Because they are still growing. Because they still need me. Because part of me is so exhausted by being needed and another part already knows I will miss even this one day. I stood there while the toast browned and said very little. The whole moment felt soft around the edges of my tiredness. That is rare enough to notice.