I stood by the sink and listened to the kettle boil like it was a lullaby

Dear Delyara, That was the only sound in the kitchen for once. No one asking. No television. No phone. No school app. No “while you’re there.” Just the kettle, one small contained rising sound that meant warmth without emotional labour attached to it. I think I’ve become hungry for sounds that don’t ask anything from me. That may be a sign of something. Or simply of motherhood. Either way, I stood there and let the kettle sound finish before moving.