Better Than Yesterday

I opened my eyes this morning.

That was something.

I sat up in bed.

Brushed my teeth.

Ran a comb through tangled hair.

I didn’t get dressed—

I couldn’t.

But I rose.

I stepped outside.

The air was soft.

I bought ice cream.

Sat alone in the park,

And let the sun touch my face.

I came home.

Swept the floor.

Made the bed.

Washed the dishes

Folded warm laundry

With trembling hands.

I did what I could.

And through quiet tears,

I whispered to myself:

Today will not be yesterday.

And it wasn’t.

No joy came rushing in.

No weight lifted.

But still—

Tomorrow waits.

And maybe,

just maybe,

tomorrow

will be lighter.