The Light Sitting in the Empty Chair

The silence in the kitchen is loud enough to hear the pot simmer. You cook a single portion, yet your hands move on their own, reaching for a second plate before stopping mid-air.

That hesitation is not a mistake; it is the echo of a love that refuses to forget what it has lost. The light does not scold you for setting the table for someone who isn't there.

It sits in the empty chair and waits with you. You are not dining alone; the true light that gives light to everyone is present in the space between the plates.

The emptiness you feel is not a void; it is a vessel already filled with a presence that cannot be seen but never leaves. Grief is just love with nowhere to go, so let it rest on the second plate.