It’s the little things, always.

It’s the little things, always.

I’ve always appreciated the little things as much as I could notice them, but with age, I became more aware of their impact. It’s strange how we call them little when the way they make people feel is so big.

It’s someone noticing you’re trying to write something whilst holding a paper with nothing to lean it on, and bringing you a hardcover so you can write more easily. I, myself, didn’t allow this tiny discomfort to take precedence—but you cared enough?

It’s someone telling you to tie your shoes, the concern so earnest in their eyes, you didn’t realize you mattered that much.

It’s silently slipping their hands into your bags and taking them off you—because if they could unload any weight off of you, physical or else, they would do it in a heartbeat.

It’s leaning in slightly to hear you better, because it’s important not to miss a word coming out of your mouth.

It’s buying you a bag strap, so the next time you travel alone you can strap your bags and move easier—a concern you didn’t even have for yourself. But to them, even little worries are worth taking action when it comes to you.

It’s getting you something from the coffee shop downstairs, even when you said you didn’t want anything—just in case—because the idea of getting something for themselves but not for you is too intolerable.

It’s switching seats with you, because theirs was better. Because the cost of your comfort and happiness is priceless—they’d pay anything for it.

It’s subtly ensuring you’re not walking on the side of the street, because you’re precious, fragile in the best ways, and the urge to protect you is second nature to them.

It’s the things that you do unconsciously, without effort, as if the love you have streams out of you unintentionally—but with full devotion, all at once.

It’s the soft, often unnoticed, everyday kindness.

The purity of this notion is such a delicacy in today’s world.
But no matter how often I enjoy them, I hope I never get used to them.
I hope they always make me feel this way.
So worthy, so seen.

Tiny ripples that stir oceans in my desire to live, fulfill my potential, and feel so important in this world.
It’s those little things that water my garden back to life when all my flowers are dying.
Micro-affections that make me realize how much more I can love myself.

It’s the little things.