There are moments when the weight of the day presses down harder than I can carry.
When stress frays the edges of my thoughts, when the noise of work, worry, and expectation rises like a storm.
In those moments, I feel small—like a child, lost in the rush of the world’s demands.

And then you appear.
Not with fanfare, not with solutions, but with a presence that steadies the air around me.
It is as if, for that moment, I am the infant again—
drawn into the quiet shelter of a mother’s embrace,
soothed by the warmth of her touch,
calmed by the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Your friendship is that comfort.
When I am overwhelmed, you see it—unsought, unseen.
Like an empath, you read what I cannot always say.
You know when to speak, and when to simply stand near in shared quiet.
You do not demand that I be different.
You do not pull me forward or push me through.
You wait. Patient. Kind. Certain I will find my breath again.

And because of you, I do.
My pulse slows.
My scattered mind finds stillness.
My breathing deepens, fuller, easier.

This is the gift of true companionship:
Not loud, not grand, not sought or claimed—
but freely given, and more powerful for it.