One kind next step

When the day is a wall, the mind wants a master plan. That’s how it stalls. Kindness is smaller. Water. A wash of the face. Shoes. The first boards of the bridge.

You don’t have to cross. You have to take the step that’s in front of you. Petals on a path aren’t a map. They’re proof someone — or the season — already began.

If the next step is Help, that’s a kind step. If it’s the Hard Day Kit, that’s a kind step. If it’s lying still until the shake passes, that can be kind too.

Don’t shame the size of it. Size isn’t the point. Direction is.