This morning, I was thinking a lot about intention and care.

The kind of intention it took for my husband to truly show up in gift giving this year, both for me and for Sage. The thoughtfulness behind choosing meaningful presents. The time he spent putting toys together, piece by piece, without rushing. The care each of us take in the small things, like not swinging the back door open too quickly in case our son or the dog might be on the other side. Or scanning the floor before walking through a room, making sure toys aren’t in anyone’s path so no one trips or slips on them. Moving through the house differently. Through life differently. More aware, more present. Intention and care, woven into ordinary moments.

I usually do most of my writing during the day, jotting down words that come to mind in my notes app on my phone, because by the time night falls, the hours all blur together. The details fold into one another and I can barely recount the moments because I was so deeply immersed in them. And I am usually wiped out, especially after Sage’s nighttime routine. Yet here I am, having just finished dancing downstairs with my husband as part of our 12 days of Dance-mas. Day 2 of laughing, moving, being silly and connected in the middle of it all. That feels quite vivid and vibrant to me.

I’ve been writing for twenty-six days straight now, and I’m honestly proud of myself for that. Not because every entry is long or polished, or poetically flowing as my best work yet… but because I keep showing up. Some nights I’m full of words. Some nights I’m tired and ready for bed. Tonight is one of those nights. But showing up still matters. Even briefly and imperfectly. Because I’m exercising the muscle of my mind. I’m honoring my commitment to myself. I’m getting it out instead of holding it in.

So I’ll leave it here. Intention. Care. Consistency. All practiced in small ways. And that feels like enough right now.