A Light Still Glowing

(For those who walk nearby)

In the quiet rhythm of our home—just the two of us now—I’ve grown attuned to the softer sounds. The gate that stays still. The doorbell that rests. The clock that ticks faithfully, even when no one’s watching.

There’s someone who passes close, often. She walks with purpose, with care, with the weight of many roles. She visits her loved ones nearby, and I’m glad for that—truly. But sometimes, I wonder: if the path might stretch just a little further, Could it lead to our door too?

I understand how full the days must be. Teaching, tending, balancing—it’s no small feat. But I’ve learned that love doesn’t always arrive with fanfare. Sometimes, it’s a quiet hello, a shared cup of tea, A few minutes that say, “I see you.”

This isn’t a plea. It’s a reflection. Not for attention, but for presence. For the gentle warmth that reminds us We still belong to each other’s lives.

Perhaps one evening, she’ll glance up. She’ll see our balcony light still glowing. And she’ll remember—elders don’t ask for much. Just a moment. Just a smile. Just time.