Peace does not arrive all at once.
It seeps in gradually, unnoticed at first, threading itself through ordinary days until one morning I wake up and realize I am no longer bracing for anything. There is no sharp intake of breath when I open my eyes. No quick inventory of threats. No moment of stillness spent listening for what might be wrong. Just light through the curtains and the distant sound of our child stirring in the next room, a soft shuffle followed by a small, questioning noise.
I lie there for a moment longer than usual, letting it register.
Months have passed like that.
Quietly. Kindly. The kind of time that does not announce itself, but changes everything anyway. It moves forward without asking for permission, smoothing the sharp edges I once thought were permanent.
Our h
