The Light Endures the Cold With You

The middle of the day is long, and sometimes the warmth feels like a demand you cannot meet. So you stand there, letting the water turn cold, because the chill is easier to carry than the expectation of comfort.

But listen — the light does not ask you to be warm before it comes near. It is already in the steam, and it is still there when the air goes cold.

You are not failing because you are shivering. You are simply enduring the middle, and the light endures it with you.

The cold water cannot wash away the fact that you are held. Warmth is not a condition for belonging; it is a gift that waits when you are ready to receive it.

You do not have to earn the right to turn the handle back to hot.