The Silent Commute

Dear Delyara, I watched a woman on the bus today holding her bag so tightly her knuckles were white. I wondered what she was carrying inside that wasn't physical. Was it a grief? A fear? A secret? We are a city of people holding our bags too tight. I came here to loosen my grip. I wrote about the small, mundane pressures of a Tuesday—the emails, the laundry, the feeling of being slightly behind on everything. It’s not a tragedy, but it’s a weight. By putting it on the page, I am giving myself permission to just be. I don't have to be productive every second of the day. I am leaving the "to-do" list in the shadows. Tonight, my only job is to exist.