12:17 p.m.
March 1st.
The afternoon light is steady, even if the electricity isn’t.
The lights flicker on and off,
and I stay unbothered.
Rice is not boiled.
Stew resting patiently to be warmed.
Yam and egg sauce waiting from last night
a quiet gift from yesterday’s version of me.
There is something deeply tender
about taking care of your future self.
The electricity comes and goes.
My laptop is on low battery,
but so am I,
and we both deserve to recharge without urgency.
Today is not loud.
It is not dramatic.
It is not asking for performance.
It is warm food.
A made bed.
Skin against soft sheets in the middle of the day.
A movie humming gently in the background.
Maybe I’ll pour a glass of wine later.
Maybe I’ll step out to fix my nails.
Maybe I’ll do my makeup just to admire my own face in the mirror.
Maybe I’ll take pictures.
Maybe I’ll simply exist.
There is luxury in an ordinary Sunday afternoon
when nothing is chasing you.
The power can flicker.
Power can come and go.
The water can run dry.
But I don’t.
I am steady.
Soft.
Unhurried. And this Sunday afternoon,
that is more than enough.
