It showed up at a strange time — somewhere between me trying to remember why I walked into the kitchen and me pretending I wasn’t bothered by the fact that I still couldn’t remember. It wasn’t a dramatic thought. It didn’t arrive with fireworks or a soundtrack. It just… tapped me on the shoulder like a shy kid trying to ask a question.
Most days, I ignore these tiny thoughts. They’re easy to miss. They show up while I’m busy doing something extremely important, like scrolling through my phone or staring at the fridge as if it might reveal the meaning of life behind the leftovers.
But today, for whatever reason, I paused long enough to actually hear it.
It said, very quietly:
“Hey… slow down for a second.”
Not in a life‑changing way. Not in a “sell everything and move to the mountains” way. More like a gentle reminder that I don’t have to sprint through every moment as if someone is timing me.
So I stood there — in the kitchen, still confused about why I was there — and I let myself slow down. Just for a breath. Just long enough to notice the way the afternoon light was landing on the counter. Long enough to realize the world wasn’t asking anything from me in that exact moment. Long enough to feel… okay.
It wasn’t profound. It wasn’t poetic. It wasn’t even particularly productive.
But it was real.
And maybe that’s the whole point.
Maybe the thoughts we almost ignore are the ones that keep us human — the ones that remind us to look up, breathe, and exist without rushing.
So here’s to the small thoughts.
The quiet ones.
The ones that don’t demand attention but deserve it anyway.
I’m glad I didn’t ignore this one.