Still Coming Home: A Quiet Journey of Healing and Breath
For my mother, whose kindness still
teaches me how to breathe.
Grace in the Everyday
As months passed, I noticed how grief folded itself into routine; making tea, opening windows to let in the rush of fresh morning air as I sip my tea and welcome the cool breeze.
As a freelance yoga teacher, my days
shift between crafting sequences for
my classes, reviewing emails on some mornings, and on lazy days, simply watching clouds drift by; creating images of my mom within them, accompanied by my favorite hot latte and a wholesome tuna sandwich.
And then, there are the days when I curl up in bed and let the tears flow freely, my heart heavy yet tender.
Life became a rhythm of small mercies.
I began to see that my mother’s lessons weren’t lost; they had simply moved into everything I touched.
Pause and breathe; what stirred within you?
Notes / What I Felt:
Small moments held meaning.
Grief and grace coexist.
I can see her in quiet acts.
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