I walked into the house around midnight and the lights were off. The house was draped in darkness and I heard faint sniffling. I’ve heard my mother cry twice, you don’t forget a sound like that. But this sniffling was foreign. I inched closer before it whimpered “go to your room”. Then I recognised it was my father. Sleep didn’t come to me that night. The sound does something to you, stirs and unsettles your insides. The following morning neither of us spoke about the previous night, and gradually I began to understand that we all break sometimes.
- Reflection #19: What are you nurturing?
- Reflection #20: Flourish