The house is finally quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that feels empty — but the kind that arrives only after a long day of being needed. Toys put away, lights dimmed, questions answered, promises made for tomorrow.

I step outside for a moment.

The air feels different at night. Slower. Less demanding. No one asking, What’s next? No one waiting for a response.

And for the first time all day, I don’t have to explain myself.

---

The Weight Women Carry Quietly

There’s a kind of tiredness sleep doesn’t fix.

It lives somewhere deeper — behind the eyes, in the chest, in the thoughts we don’t say out loud. It comes from holding everything together while appearing fine. From remembering birthdays, school notes, grocery lists, emotions, expectations.

From being strong so often that weakness feels unfamiliar.

At night, that weight becomes visible.

Not dramatic. Not loud. Just present.

---

Standing Still Without Solving Anything

We’re taught to look for answers.

To fix. To plan. To improve. To optimize.

But some nights, answers feel unnecessary.

Some nights, standing still is enough.

I don’t ask big questions. I don’t make lists in my head. I don’t replay conversations or rehearse tomorrow.

I just stand there.

Breathing.

Letting the silence do what it does best — soften the edges of everything I’ve been carrying.

---

Thinking of Shiva, Without Asking

Sometimes my thoughts drift to Shiva.

Not in a desperate, pleading way.

Just a quiet remembrance.

Of stillness. Of destruction that makes space for new beginnings. Of strength that doesn’t rush.

There’s comfort in that image — not of answers, but of presence. Of knowing that not everything needs immediate meaning.

Some things just need time.

---

Midnight Is Honest

Daytime asks us to perform.

Midnight allows us to be.

At night, there’s no audience. No productivity to prove. No version of myself to maintain.

Just a woman standing quietly, thinking thoughts that don’t need to be shared or solved.

This honesty is rare.

And precious.

---

Letting Silence Be Enough

Eventually, I go back inside.

Tomorrow will come with its questions and responsibilities and noise. I’ll handle them — like I always do.

But tonight, I let silence stay with me a little longer.

No answers. No conclusions. No pressure to understand everything.

Just this moment.

And maybe that’s enough for now.

---

Midnight isn’t lonely. It’s where we finally meet ourselves.