The sickness I missed

He worked at a very busy office making designs. His days were full of fast work, many emails, and never enough time. He always wanted to get ahead, but the work just kept coming.

Then, he got a very bad flu.It was not a small cold. It hit him like a hard punch. One minute he was looking at his work phone, and the next he was shaking in bed. The doctor gave him a clear order: “Stay home. Rest for one week. No work, no computer.

”“One week?” Leo said. He felt scared. “But I have a big job to finish soon!”

The first two days were terrible. He sweat a lot, then he shivered a lot. His head hurt very badly. The blankets were heavy and hot. He hated not working. He kept thinking: I should be doing something. I am wasting time. His work life had taught him that resting was bad.

But the flu was stronger than his worry. It forced him to sleep long, quiet sleeps.

When he woke up on the third day, the fever was lower. He felt less worried and started to look around.

He saw small bits of dust floating in the sunlight from the window. He watched his cat, Archimedes, jump on his bed. The cat was usually gone quickly. Now, the cat just slept, quiet and easy. The cat seemed to know how to just be.

Leo found a very old book he had always wanted to read. He read a full chapter. He did not look at his clock one time. He opened an old notebook with drawings from years ago. He remembered when he drew just for fun, not because a client told him to.

He started to see things in his small apartment that were always there but never truly seen. A small crack in the ceiling shaped like a snake. The way the wood floor changed color near the door. He smelled the old paper of the book. It smelled sweet, like dust and old wood. These small things were good. They were real.He remembered how he used to jump out of bed. Alarm! Up! Go! No time for a cup of tea. No time to look out the window. Every single minute had to be used for work or for getting ready for work. Even when he watched TV, he was scrolling on his phone at the same time. His mind was always racing, like a small, fast car that never stopped its engine.He understood now. His mind was tired. His body was sick, but his mind needed the rest even more. The terrible illness was like a big, strong wall that stood between him and his fast life. It made him safe. It made him slow.He realized the fever and the aches were bad. But the gift—the permission to stop—was good. That gift of quiet, that forced break, was the thing he would hold onto. He realized he did not miss his job. He missed the quiet. This was the strange, good part of being sick. This was the sickness I missed.When he went back to the office, he worked smart, not just fast. He kept his break time. He went for walks to see the sun and the shadows. He drank his tea slowly. He kept the old book open next to his bed. He learned his life was better when he had a slow speed. The flu taught him that being well means being rested. He was done with the life that went fast, faster, fastest.