The Morning I Smiled Before I Had Fully Woken Up

Dear Delyara, I woke up already tired, not because I had done anything yet, but because my mind had been busy before my eyes even opened. I was thinking about money, about work, about whether I had replied to the school message, about the appointment I still need to book, about the fact that my son has been quieter than usual and I still don’t know if it’s stress, tiredness, or something he hasn’t found words for yet. Then the house started. Kettle. Breakfast. Toast. Water bottles. One missing sock. One missing book. One child calling my name from upstairs while I was trying to butter toast with one hand and check the time with the other. I answered in a soft voice because that is what mothers do even when their own nerves are already too full for the hour. At one point, my daughter was standing by the door, half-ready for school, talking to me about something that happened in class yesterday. I was listening. But I was also not fully there, because one part of me was already at work, one part of me was counting money in my head, and one part of me was still begging for ten more minutes in bed. When I dropped her at school, she got out, smiled, and walked away like it was just another normal day. I smiled too. But when she disappeared through the gate, I sat in the car for a few seconds and realised how sad I felt for no dramatic reason at all. Nothing terrible had happened. That was the truth. But some mornings are heavy in a way that doesn’t leave bruises, and still, by 8:40 a.m., a woman can feel like she has already spent too much of herself. That was my morning. And I think what hurt most was how invisible it all was.