The quiet between appointments feels sacred today

It’s 4:15 PM, and the clinic is hushed—just the soft hum of the sterilizer and the faint scent of mint from the last patient’s rinse. I’m sitting with my hands in my lap, not doing anything, just breathing. There’s something holy about this stillness, like the world pauses to let me remember why I do this: not for perfection, but for presence. A few minutes ago, a woman smiled at me through her mask and said, 'You always make me feel seen.' That’s all I need. Today, care isn’t a checklist—it’s a moment held gently.