My child brought me water before I asked

Dear Delyara, I was sitting there with that drained, used-up kind of face children apparently recognise better than adults do, and my son went into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water without making a speech about it. That nearly undid me. I think what touched me most was not the water. It was being noticed before I became dramatic enough to justify care. So much of my life now happens in reverse — I get help after I am visibly too tired, visibly stressed, visibly overwhelmed. To be read earlier than that, in a small ordinary way, felt incredibly loving. It made me feel less alone in my own body for a minute.