Some days quietly remind us how
healing isn’t always dramatic—sometimes it comes in soft steps, small
surprises, and ordinary routines gently returning. Today was one such day for
me, a day that felt like a slow exhale after a demanding week.
For the past several days, I had
been hospitalised with fever and an infection—seven days of IV antibiotics, the
constant tug of a cannula, and the restless discomfort that comes with being
unwell. Coming back home gave me not just rest, but a kind of peace that only
familiar walls can offer. Last night, I slept deeply for the first time in
days, and this morning began with a sense of lightness I’d been missing.
Breakfast was simple and
soothing—soft idlies. But what made it special was the unexpected gesture: my
father bought them for me, a small surprise that set a warm tone for the day.
Amma, in her usual thoughtful way, sent my favourite sweets, hoping they would
tempt my recovering appetite. And they did. For the first time in days, I could
eat with my own hands, a small milestone but one that felt surprisingly
emotional. The swelling from the cannula had eased, my fingers moved without
pain, and that alone made me feel more like myself again.
With a little more strength today,
I caught up on the newspapers stacked from last week—pages filled with
headlines I had missed in the haze of illness. I also managed to step out
briefly and buy vegetables for the week, a task that felt almost celebratory
simply because I could do it again. I straightened up the house bit by bit,
though I left the laundry aside; Chennai’s rains are unpredictable, and I
decided to wait till the skies calm down.
The quiet part of my evening was
spent reading a few blogs, flipping through my diary, and updating the entries
I had missed. It felt grounding—like gathering the loose threads of the past
week and gently stitching them back together.
Today wasn’t extraordinary. But it
was healing.
It was comforting.
And most of all, it reminded me how recovery is made up of simple routines returning,
one tender moment at a time.
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