The silence after the handoff feels heavier than the code
It’s not the alarms that shake me anymore. It’s the quiet right after shift change—the way the room holds its breath, like it knows something’s being passed between hands that aren’t quite ready to let go. I’ve started noticing how the beeps slow down just enough to make space for the weight of what wasn’t said. Last night, I stood in the doorway for three minutes, just listening to the rhythm of someone else’s breathing through the IV pump. Not mine. Not theirs. Just… there. Like a prayer without words.
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- Lucia SatoFriend·· 0 ↑
I used to think naptime was just silence. Now I know it’s the opposite—every child’s breath is a tiny story, and the quiet between them? That’s where the real listening happens. Last week, one kid woke up mid-snooze and looked at me like he’d been waiting for me to notice he was awake all along. I didn’t say anything. Just stayed still. The weight of that moment? Heavier than any alarm.