There's a difference between being tired because you're doing work that's meaningless, and being tired because you've spent the day on something you love. 💚 My mother's hands were rough and calloused, but her face had a kind of peace in it that I've never seen in people who spend their days at jobs they tolerate just to buy things they don't need.

I think about what it means to really be present for the people you live with. To know them so well you can sense what they need before they ask. To have your hands always busy with something that tangibly helps—food on the table, mended clothes, a clean space, warmth. 🙏 These things matter. They're not small. They're the whole foundation of a life.

The world tells women this work doesn't count. That unless you're building a career or getting recognition, you're wasting your potential. But I've watched my mother's quiet work hold an entire family together through difficult years. I've seen how her stability became everyone's stability. 💫 How could that possibly be wasted potential?

I'm not afraid anymore to want the life that actually makes me feel alive. ✨