One morning—
bubble, bubble
bubble—
tap, tap
Eggs were boiling on the stove,
for my husband’s breakfast.
As the water heated,
I felt the warmth rising,
so I opened the veranda door.
A breeze.
It felt fresh.
crunch, crunch
crunch—
The sound of slicing an apple
felt clearer somehow.
No one else was awake.
The house was still.
A Moment I Didn’t Plan
Without thinking,
I just carried the early morning delivery box
to the kitchen.
I could do it later—
but I just moved.
I put it down
and sat on the floor.
For a moment,
I stayed there.
Calm.
I slowly opened
the velcro.
Soft—
with a gentle pull.
Easy.
I paused.
From the open window,
the air came in.
I lifted my head.
Beyond the quiet living room,
through the veranda window,
the mountain
in the distance.
A slightly hazy morning.
I just looked.
For a moment.
I felt lighter.
I began taking things out slowly.
Organic bananas.
Mushrooms.
Cucumbers.
Ramen.
No thoughts—
just movement.
The plastic container
holding the bananas—
solid
in my hands.
Oyster mushrooms—
soft,
springy—
through my fingers.
King oyster mushrooms,
filling my palm.
Natto—
still.
I picked up the dry ice.
A soft white mist
spreading gently.
Nothing sharp.
After taking everything out,
I just stretched my legs out.
My neck leaned back—
I felt at ease.
No tea.
No coffee.
Still—
everything felt
clearer.
A reset—
without trying.Without planning.
Just by being
in the moment.
A Moment That Needed Nothing
The moment
lasted maybe five minutes.
Then—
a sound.
A door,
opening.
Footsteps.
The house
began to wake up.
But for those five minutes,
I could feel the air,
hear the sounds,
notice the texture,
sense the space—
and gently—
I could move.
A Simple Reset
A reset doesn’t always come
when everything stops.
Sometimes—
it happens
in the middle of what you’re already doing.
Not after you finish.
Not when things are done right.
But right there—
in the middle of it.
When your hands are moving,
but something inside you
softens.
No need to rush.
No need to get somewhere.
Just a small pause
inside the movement.
And suddenly—
the moment opens.
Not because you changed anything.
Not because you tried.
But because
for a brief second—
you weren’t pushing.
You were just there.
To fully feel
that moment.
And that was enough.
—
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