I took the long way home because I needed ten more minutes of not being available

Dear Delyara, The shorter road would have got me there sooner. That was exactly the problem. I knew the second I turned into our street, the evening would begin asking for me in full — dinner, school bags, noise, practical questions, one child’s mood, one husband’s tiredness, tomorrow already pressing on the edges of the house before today had even finished. So I drove the long way. Past the park, the quieter road, the row of dark trees, the stretch where no one could ask anything from me yet. I kept both hands on the wheel and tried not to turn that pause into guilt. I am beginning to understand that transition is not weakness. It is survival.