A heaviness on Monday that softened by midweek — the unfinished talk with Sam.
A quiet kind of joy on Saturday morning — light through the kitchen.
Restlessness I couldn't name. It passed by Friday.
Tender. The anniversary always lands heavier than I expect.
Steady. Almost suspiciously so.
A small, bright spark on Wednesday after the gallery visit.
Heavy at the start — lighter by Sunday.
Alive. A rare week of feeling fully present.
Curious. New ideas kept arriving uninvited.
Steady but tired. The kind that calls for a slow weekend.
Tender. A small grief surfaced and I let it.
Quiet. The end-of-year hush I always forget I love.