Member-only story
Kindness isn’t always a transaction, and that’s okay.
I just realised that in the smallest acts of my consideration, I should never hope to be considered as much as I considered others. And it’s no one’s fault at that.
Maybe they’ve considered me in ways I didn’t see, just not in the ways I needed or hoped for. Maybe they showed up for me in a language I don’t speak. Maybe kindness doesn’t always mirror itself.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s a fair square of an event.
Earlier today, I found myself waiting at a table, alone — not for long, and not dramatically — just waiting.
It wasn’t a big deal on the surface. I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t fuming. I wasn’t even surprised. I just.. noticed.
I noticed how it felt.
I noticed how I felt.
We were a group, navigating a small, everyday moment: choosing where to sit, where to go, who’d stay, who’d walk ahead. Somewhere between all that, I was the one left behind. Not deliberately, I think. Just naturally, quietly left as I stayed back, scouting our place and our belongings because, well, we’re women.
We have lots of stuff we carry.
