The Rice Cooker Clicked to Warm and I Still Hadn’t Sat Down

Dear Delyara, Dinner was technically under control. That should have felt reassuring. The rice cooker had moved from cooking to warm, the vegetables were chopped, the table was half-laid, and still I was moving through the kitchen like someone whose body had forgotten what sitting was for. I kept thinking, just this one last thing. Just the plates. Just the bottles. Just the school note by the fruit bowl. Just one message. Just one quick check of tomorrow. That is how evenings keep disappearing from me. Not in dramatic sacrifice. In tiny practical postponements of my own stillness until the body becomes so used to serving motion that rest starts feeling like an interruption instead of a right. I stood there with a spoon in one hand and the cupboard open in front of me and realised the rice was already resting more fully than I was. That thought made me laugh a little. Then it made me feel sad.