Soft starts,
even on hard days.
Even when the world feels like
a heavy coat you can’t take off,
even when your coffee gets cold
while you’re wiping small tears
from small faces
who only know you as “safe.”
Soft starts,
when you wake up tired
but still open the blinds,
letting light in like an act of faith.
When you whisper, “Thank you, God,”
even with a voice that shakes,
even when your hope feels thin,
even when your heart still stings.
Soft starts,
when you choose to get up anyway,
when you braid hair with trembling hands,
when you pack lunches you hope they’ll eat,
when you let yourself breathe
in the quiet moments before they wake.
Soft starts,
when you forgive yourself for yesterday,
for the days you snapped,
for the days you cried on the bathroom floor,
for the days you didn’t know how to be everything,
but somehow you still showed up.
Soft starts,
even if you’re scared.
Even if your chest feels too tight
to take a deep breath.
Even if your mind is loud.
You take one small step,
then another,
and call it holy.
Soft starts,
because healing isn’t loud,
isn’t always beautiful,
isn’t always something you can post.
It’s you, deciding to live again,
to believe again,
to begin again,
even when it hurts.
Soft starts,
because you deserve them.
Because your babies deserve to see them.
Because you are worthy of the softness,
even on the hardest days.
