Today doesn’t require meaning.
It doesn’t require reflection, or insight, or growth. It doesn’t need to resolve anything or move grief forward. It doesn’t need to hold the weight of what’s missing or explain why things feel different.
Today only needs to be lived.
I’m letting small things be enough.
A few hours of presence. A visit that doesn’t last long. A moment of happiness that doesn’t cancel what hurts. A body that can participate for a while and then needs to rest.
I’m letting the day have edges instead of expectations.
There was a time when I would have measured a day like this by what I failed to do, or what didn’t look the way it used to. I would have compared it to earlier versions of myself, earlier versions of family, earlier versions of holidays.
I’m not doing that today.
I’m letting what showed up count. I’m letting joy and grief exist side by side without needing to explain their coexistence. I’m letting the fact that I could be present, even partially, be enough.
I don’t need to extract anything from this day.
I don’t need to turn it into a lesson.
I don’t need to hold onto it tightly or push it away.
I can let it pass through as it is.
Right now, that’s enough.
