Between Bruises and Blooms

He was so small

the night could have swallowed him whole.

One tiny heartbeat sitting perfectly still on cold pavement, waiting for a world that rarely notices the smallest lives.

But I saw him.

I don’t know why.

Maybe because motherhood teaches you to notice fragile things.

To hear the quiet cries.

To watch where little feet wander.

So I cupped him in careful hands and carried him to the grass, where the earth felt softer, and tomorrow seemed a little more possible.

He didn’t know my name.

He’ll never remember the woman who interrupted his journey.

But maybe not every act of love needs to be remembered.

Maybe it’s enough to leave someone a little safer than you found them.

And keep walking.