Quiet Work

I sit back down at my desk as the noise of celebration fills the halls - laughter, photos, goodbyes, the lightness of endings.

I was part of their storms, their quiet battles, their breaking points… but not their celebrations. And that’s okay. This is how it has always been.

To be remembered only when needed is a lonely kind of honor - but still an honor. Because in the moments that truly mattered, I was there.

So I return to my silence, carrying stories no one will ever fully know, finding peace in the unseen difference made - 

and in the quiet hope that somehow, they walk a little lighter because of it.