✨ The Slow Walk

Sometimes the sun isn’t in the sky. It’s in someone else’s smile.

I was at the farmer’s market the other day, trying to fake my way through a funk.

You know the kind. Nothing dramatic. Just a low-grade fog sitting on your brain. You eat breakfast, you go outside, you do the right things—but the light doesn’t quite make it through.

Everyone else seemed to be having a capital-M Morning. Laughing. Sampling strawberries. Strolling like extras in a feel-good indie film. And there I was, dragging my bones through the crowd like a grumpy ghost with a canvas tote. I wanted to go hide in a crate of cucumbers.

That’s when I got stuck behind her.

She and her friend were walking slowly. Painfully slowly. Stopping to point at sunflowers. Chatting. Laughing. Taking up space in a way that felt, to my fogged-up brain, almost rude. I kept trying to pass her, and every time I did, she drifted right back into my path like a very joyful speed bump.

Annoyance, meet persistence.

But then, something shifted. I actually looked at her.

One foot was fine. The other had a 7-inch riser on the shoe. Her clothes were worn, not in a trendy way—just lived-in. And her limp was pronounced, rhythmic, like a metronome for patience.

She wasn’t in a hurry. Not because she couldn’t be—but because she didn’t want to be.

She was fully in the moment. Fully in her body. Fully here.

And just like that, the fog in my chest didn’t lift exactly, but it loosened.

She hadn’t been given an easy walk through life. But she walked it slowly. Joyfully. Without apology.

And me? I was the one tripping over someone else’s pace, as if slowness was a personal affront.

She didn’t say a word to me. Didn’t even know I existed. But somehow, she handed me a mirror. The kind that doesn’t judge. Just reflects.

Not: You should be grateful.
Not: Someone else has it worse.
Just: Look. This is also true.

Joy and pain, side by side. Slowness and delight, in the same frame. Discomfort, and a soft exhale.

That day, she walked a little crooked. And me? I walked away a little straighter.

With gentleness for wherever you are,
The Undelulu Team