It didn’t arrive with an uproar,
no lightning bolt,
no tearful revelation.
Just a quiet return,
like sunlight slipping through blinds
after too many gray mornings.

At first, I didn’t notice.
The noise had dulled,
I thought it was just a pause.
Another calm before the ache.

But then,
a moment held steady,
a thought stayed clear.
My breath didn’t catch.
The fog didn’t come.
And I realized,
I feel like myself again.
Inside my own head.
Present.
Real.

Not grasping,
not lost.
Just here.

And maybe it won’t last.
Maybe this is a borrowed stillness,
a gift that slips away like so many before.
But I’m holding on.

With both hands.
With everything I have.

Because now that I’ve tasted it again,
I remember what I’ve been missing.
I don’t want to forget.

Not again.

So I’ll carry this feeling
tucked in the folds of my memory,
pressed to my chest like a photograph.
Just in case it fades.
Just in case it leaves.
Just in case
I need to find my way back.