Something softer is being asked of you now. Not softer as in less significant. Softer as in the kind of courage that doesn't announce itself. The courage to be nourished. To be held. To stop proving and simply belong somewhere. To let care find you without immediately turning it back into care for someone else. There is a strange tenderness in allowing something to reach you. In not rushing to carry it. Fix it. Reciprocate it. Earn it. Explain it. Just letting it arrive. Just letting it rest there for a moment. The warmth of being welcomed. The ease of being included. The quiet relief of not having to become anything before receiving what is already here. Some experiences enter loudly. Others arrive like this. Without urgency. Without demand. Without asking you to be anything other than present enough to notice them. And suddenly what once felt distant feels remarkably close. Not because it wasn't there before. Because this time, you allowed it to land.