Sometimes the quiet comes in unexpected forms

It wasn’t a quiet weekend.
Not in the way I thought I needed.
The air was full —
of movement,
of moments overlapping,
of little feet and loud laughter
and lives brushing against each other.

But there was something in that fullness
that eased the ache.

Not by fixing it.
Not by filling it.
Just… by being louder than the thoughts
that usually linger too long.

Sometimes healing doesn’t arrive
in hushed tones and solitude.
Sometimes it’s wrapped
in the noise of other people’s joy
and making it a part of your own —
and that’s enough to steady what feels undone.

And maybe that was the grace of it all —
not silence,
but presence.
Not stillness,
but the steady rhythm of life carrying on.