Slowness Is Not Laziness

The first time I cried while folding laundry, it wasn’t because I was sad. It was because I finally felt safe.

The housekeeper had just departed a couple of hours before. The house was quiet. The dryer hummed softly, and my son was somewhere down the hall humming along with a show he’s watched a dozen times. But inside of me, there was quiet. No rush to get to the next thing. No guilt that I wasn’t using this time “better” or to be more productive. Just me, my hands, warm cotton, and breath. I remember thinking, so this is what peace in the body feels like. And then the tears came.