There was a time I only heard noise. Phones ringing, doors slamming, demands flying. I missed the soft tick of the clock. Now I hear it—and it speaks.
It tells me that time is passing, yes. But not to scare me.
It reminds me that I still have time. And that every quiet moment is a gift I used to waste.
Now I listen more. I look more. I don’t rush the tea to cool. I don’t scroll past birdsong. It’s all part of the second half I didn’t know would feel this full.