Quiet Chaos: Journal Entries from a Nurse With a Lot on Her Mind vol.6

Entry 26: What Brown Eyes Hide
It crossed my mind this morning —
how lucky I am to have brown eyes.

Because no one noticed
what I probably gave away that day.
Not even him.

The way my pupils must have widened.
The way awe sometimes forgets to be subtle.

But brown eyes are kind.
They hold the line.
They keep secrets
even when the heart’s ready to spill.

Entry 27: The Cover Story
They’ve started to notice—
the hair, the glow,
the way I’ve been moving a little lighter lately.

“Are you seeing someone?”
I smiled. Shrugged.
Said I had a date coming up.

She leaned in. “I knew it.
There’s someone making you bloom.”

And I didn’t correct her.
Let her have the story.
Let her run with the version
that doesn’t include the quiet truth—
that the glow came
from something already fading.

Yes, I have a plan.
A visit.
A friend.
A cat.
But that’s not what’s behind the softness in my face.

That’s something else.
Something I’m not explaining.
Not yet.

Entry 28: The Shift in the Air

Sometimes I pretend I’m just reading the schedule,
just preparing.
Just doing my job.

But I know what I’m hoping to see.
And today, I did.

Not a surprise.
But still, it stirred something.

Just the quiet knowing
that soon,
paths will cross again.
Not deeply. Not privately.
But enough.

Enough to feel it.


Entry 29: The Page Before the Day

Sometimes, I turn the page before the day arrives—
just to see what’s coming.

Not for anything in particular.
Just a habit.
Just curiosity.

And today, something familiar appeared.
A name.
A rhythm I’ve learned.
Patterns that repeat quietly, but not without meaning.

It’s nothing.
It’s everything.
It’s just knowing that in a few days’ time,

I’ll cross paths
with something I thought I was done bracing for.

And even if it’s brief,
even if it passes without pause—
I’ll know.


Entry 30: Stillness, Slightly Stirred

Nothing may happen.
No words. No pause.
Just the usual passing by.

But that small shift—
the one only I notice—
will be there.

In my breath.
In the way I stand.
In the moment I catch myself
bracing,
softening,
remembering
what I’ve already let go of—
but not quite forgotten.


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