Mom’s Little Escape

She turned on the shower, steam slowly curling through the air. The scent of her new shower gel filled the bathroom—fresh, calming, like a gentle exhale. She closed her eyes and let the warmth wash over her, rinsing away the long week.

Afterward, wrapped in her robe, she padded to the couch and pulled on her new fluffy socks. The kind that hugged her feet like clouds—warm, soft, perfect. She sank into the cushions, reached for the hand lotion, and massaged it into her palms with slow, grateful circles.

Next to her, a small plate of cookies waited. She smiled and took a bite—crumbly, sweet, and just right. She didn't have to share. Not tonight.

In the mirror, she wiped away the day with a magic makeup remover cloth, soft and simple, like everything else about this evening. No rush. No reason. Just her.

And at that moment, with cozy toes, soft hands, and a heart just a little fuller, she thought: This—this is enough.