Light Sitting With You In The Shadow

The afternoon sun hits the pavement just right, making the dust dance in the air, and there it is. A stranger pushing a stroller that looks exactly like the one you bought for a nursery that never held a child.

The sight stops you cold in the middle of your Tuesday. It is a ghost of a life you were supposed to have, rolling past you on rubber wheels while you stand frozen on the sidewalk.

The world keeps moving, indifferent to the hollow space inside your chest where a laugh was supposed to be. But the light does not look away from this kind of pain.

It steps right into the middle of the street with you. It sees the empty seat and the full heartbreak, and it does not try to explain it away.

The light is not a promise that the missing thing will return. It is the quiet, steady presence that sits with you in the shadow of what never was.

You are not forgotten in this long, hard middle of the day.