We forget,
how brief the miracle is
how the morning doesn’t promise
to repeat itself,
how hands are borrowed,
not owned.
Love arrives quietly,
sometimes dressed as laughter,
sometimes as patience,
sometimes as staying
when leaving would be easier.
It isn’t always fireworks.
Sometimes it’s warm tea,
a shared silence,
a look that says
I see you surviving
and I choose you anyway.
Life is not waiting
on the other side of becoming.
It’s here.
In the cracked voice,
the unfinished dreams,
the late-night thoughts
we don’t say out loud.
Kiss longer.
Say the thing.
Touch with intention.
Forgive sooner.
Laugh like you mean it
because the moment is already
learning how to leave.
Cherish the ordinary.
It’s where the sacred hides.
The slow mornings.
The tired love.
The breath you almost ignored.
We don’t get rehearsals.
No saved drafts.
Just this single, burning chance
to love fully,
to live honestly,
to be present
before the light changes.
And one day
when the story closes
may it be said
you didn’t rush past your life,
you tasted it.
About the Creator
Anita
Anita’s Blog is a space for real stories, spontaneous thoughts, and reflections on life, love, and growth. No filters, no schedule—just honest writing as moments happen and feelings find their words.
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