It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon, and I find myself sitting in my office — a place I didn’t expect to be today. Sundays are usually reserved for family, rest, and a break from the constant buzz of work. But sometimes, work calls, and you just can’t say no.
Lunch is done, and for the first time all day, I have a moment to breathe. As I sit here with my thoughts, I realize there’s a nagging feeling that’s been with me since morning — guilt. And it’s not just one kind of guilt; it’s layered and complex.
Is it the guilt of being at work on a day that should be spent with loved ones?
Or maybe it's because my daughter is unwell at home, and I’m not there to care for her.
Or is it because she has a unit test tomorrow, and I know she isn’t fully prepared — and I’m not there to help her revise?
Perhaps it’s because the house is in disarray, with dishes piling up and laundry waiting to be folded, while I’m here, sitting at a desk that should have been empty today.
As I try to sort through these emotions, a thought strikes me: even though I’m not physically present at home, my mind is completely there. I'm thinking of my daughter, my family, the tasks waiting for me. I’m here, yes — but my heart and thoughts are very much there.
That’s when it hit me: I am there, but still not there — and not there, but still there.
Life often pulls us in different directions, and on days like today, we are reminded of the delicate balance we try so hard to maintain between duty and devotion, between work and home.
No comments:
Post a Comment