The Quiet Things That Deserve More Room

The music surprised her.

She was driving home when a song she hadn’t heard in years began playing on the radio.

Within seconds, she was singing.

Not quietly, either.

She knew every word.

Her fingers tapped against the steering wheel. At the chorus, she turned up the volume and sang even louder, laughing when she missed a note she used to reach easily.

For the length of that song, she wasn’t thinking about what she needed to do when she got home.

She wasn’t making a list.

She wasn’t solving anything.

She was simply enjoying herself.

Then the song ended.

The next one began, traffic moved forward, and almost automatically her mind returned to everything waiting for her.

But something had shifted.

A small memory had followed her out of the song.

I used to listen to music all the time.

When Did I Stop Doing That?

It wasn’t an important question.

At least, it didn’t seem important.

She hadn’t deliberately stopped listening to music.

There had been no decision.

Life had simply become noisier.

Phone calls in the car.

News in the background.

Podcasts she thought she should listen to.

Sometimes silence because her head already felt too full for anything else.

Music had gradually moved somewhere toward the edges.

So gradually that she hadn’t noticed it leaving.

And music wasn’t the only thing.

There were books she used to disappear into.

Long conversations that didn’t need a purpose.

Walks taken without counting steps.

Recipes attempted simply because they looked interesting.

A friend she kept meaning to call when she had enough time to really talk.

Little things.

None of them urgent.

Which was probably why they were so easy to postpone.

The Important Things Usually Speak Louder

Much of adult life arrives with a voice.

Deadlines remind us they’re coming.

Bills announce when they’re due.

People ask for what they need.

Appointments appear on calendars.

Laundry develops its own rather impressive system of communication.

The things that require us tend to make themselves known.

But many of the things that restore us are quieter.

They don’t send reminders.

The novel on the bedside table doesn’t complain when another month passes.

The garden doesn’t ask why we haven’t sat outside lately.

The friend we love may understand when we say, Things are hectic. I’ll call you soon.

And the part of us that misses creating, wandering, laughing, learning or simply doing something unnecessary can become surprisingly patient.

So we attend to what calls the loudest.

And sometimes the quiet things wait.

Not Everything Needs to Be Useful

Perhaps that’s another reason we make so little room for them.

Somewhere along the way, we became very good at asking what things are for.

Exercise is for our health.

Reading is for learning.

Walking is for getting our steps.

A hobby could become a side business.

Even rest can become something we do so we’ll be more productive tomorrow.

We have become remarkably skilled at giving pleasure a job.

But perhaps some things are allowed to exist simply because they make an ordinary Tuesday feel a little more like ours.

A song doesn’t have to improve us.

A conversation doesn’t need an outcome.

A hobby doesn’t need an audience.

And something we love doesn’t have to become something we’re good at.

Sometimes enjoyment is reason enough.

What Has Been Waiting Quietly for You?

The next evening, she got into her car.

Her phone connected automatically.

For a moment, her hand hovered over the podcast she normally played.

Then she searched for the song.

The opening notes filled the car.

She smiled.

Nothing about her life had changed.

Her responsibilities were still waiting.

Her calendar hadn’t suddenly emptied.

There were still things she needed to figure out.

But for a few minutes, she made room for something that had once made her happy.

And perhaps making room doesn’t always begin with a major decision.

Sometimes it begins by noticing the small things that have been patiently waiting at the edges of our lives.

The book.

The music.

The conversation.

The garden.

The curiosity.

The thing we once loved doing before we started asking whether we had time for it.

Maybe we don’t need to reclaim all of them.

Maybe we simply choose one.

And give it a little room again.

Not because it will make us healthier, more productive, more interesting or more successful.

But because somewhere inside an ordinary day, it reminds us:

I’m still here too.

© Hormones & Her 2025