They still ask if you’ve eaten. They remember the call you were nervous about. They make room for your worries, even when their own have nowhere to go.
We get used to people like that. We answer their questions and forget to ask them back.
“How was your day?”
Not while reaching for the phone. Not while waiting to tell our own story. Just a question, with enough quiet after it for an honest answer.
The person who holds things together is allowed to need a little help too.
Maybe care begins there: when we stop admiring how much someone can carry and offer to take something off their hands.