The Light Sitting in the Dark

The house is quiet now, and the phone sits on the table like a small, silent judge. You recorded a greeting an hour ago that sounds like you are loved, like you are missed, like there is a crowd waiting in the other room to hear your voice.

But the silence after the beep tells the truth no greeting can hide. You are performing a life that feels just out of reach.

The light does not ask you to re-record the tape. It does not need the performance.

It sees the exhaustion behind the smile you painted on your voice. There is a presence that does not require you to sound okay.

It knows the difference between the greeting and the heart. You do not have to pretend to be full to be held.

The light is already here, sitting with you in the honest, unadorned dark.