I mentioned in passing — really in passing, not as a complaint, just as a fact — that I’d been having trouble sleeping. Maya didn’t say much at the time. Two days later a small package showed up at my door: a sleep mask, a tea I’d never heard of, and a handwritten note that said “no pressure to report back, just wanted to do something small.”
I stood in my hallway holding the package for a longer time than made sense. It wasn’t the things inside — it was the fact that she’d been listening carefully enough to catch something I’d said once and hadn’t meant as a request. That’s its own kind of love, I think. The kind that notices.
The people who act on the small things you say without asking are the ones worth keeping very close.