Slow Days, Full Hearts

A soft reflection on healing, motherhood, and the joy that lingers when we slow down.

Some days, the body speaks more loudly than the plans.
And lately, I’ve had to listen.

My body has asked me to slow down. To pause. To not push.
And though part of me wants to keep up, be strong, be “normal,”
there’s another part that is learning to stay.

To stay in the quiet.
To stay in the gentle.
To stay in the now.

This weekend, I stayed.
Not in bed, not out adventuring — but somewhere in between.

And in that in-between, I found joy.

A slow breakfast with jam on every cheek.
Muddy boots left at the door after a short walk that felt like a journey.
Books half-read, drawings half-finished, stories fully imagined.
Their laughter came in bursts — sudden and free.
And I caught myself laughing too.

It wasn’t perfect.
But it was real.
And it was enough.

I didn’t do much. But I noticed more.
And maybe that’s the quiet offering of this season —
a different kind of presence.
One that doesn’t ask me to perform, just to be.

Healing is slow. But so is joy.
And this weekend, I let myself be held by both.

With gentleness,

Sam

A quiet reminder: slow is sacred too.