Drift

Writing these reflections has taught me to notice the quiet unravelings - the ones that don't announce themselves. This week, I kept returning to the word drift. It's not a rupture. It's not a decision. It's the slow, almost imperceptible way two people begin to move in different directions.

I’ve seen it in friendships, in family, in love. One person changes jobs. The other stops texting back as quickly. A shared ritual fades. A joke doesn’t land. And suddenly, the rhythm is off. Not broken—just… different.

What strikes me most is how gentle it can be. No one’s at fault. No one’s angry. But the space between grows wider, and the bridge that once felt effortless now requires effort. And sometimes, no one crosses it.

I write Five Words Deep to honor these moments. To name the things we often overlook. Drift isn’t always sad. Sometimes it’s necessary. Sometimes it’s freeing. But it’s always worth noticing—because it tells us something about who we were, and who we’re becoming.