Hold fast to those who tether you to the quiet wonders of your being—the ones who remind you of the poetry stitched into the smallest moments.
A sister who traces the unfinished strokes of your painting, searching for the light that once danced in your eyes. A mother who, with a quiet knowing, asks when last you kindled the warmth of your favorite meal. A father who nudges you toward the fragile green of the plant you once cradled with hope.
Grandmothers—one, a keeper of celestial secrets, weaving tales of unknown worlds; the other, an anchor, reminding you to whisper prayers to the sky. Grandfathers—one, always asking after the weather, as if inviting you to truly notice the world around you; the other, a silent presence in a photograph, teaching you, even in absence, what it means to live.
The friends who thread laughter into your days—a sisterhood of voices that call at impossible hours, unbothered by the odds of an answer. A companion who nudges you to spill your words onto the world, to capture the fleeting gold of sunsets.
Hold them close. These are the hands that steady you, the echoes that remind you: you are never alone..
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