Memories kept gnawing at me after a restless night. I woke up to the light, the rumpled sheets, my pajamas I’d picked out with so much care, and no face to show, not even wanting to see it after everything that happened. Mornings feel like quiet resets; this month has been a lot about that for me. Remembering, waking up, starting again—not with certainty, just taking a small step, learning to accept that I won’t understand everything when life crashes over me.