They say no one is going to save you, but I’ve been saved more times than I can count.
I’ve been saved by the quiet notes of an Adele song that found me in the dark, and by the words of a poem when I thought no one else understood. I’ve been rescued by an unexpected little transfer when my bank balance was down to nothing, and by a bottle of purple shampoo left on my doorstep by a neighbour who somehow knew I needed something small, something beautiful.
There was the stranger in the queue who nudged me gently when I was lost in my own mind, and the traffic cop who saw beyond my exhaustion and chose kindness instead of consequence.
Good morning hugs and a simple cup of coffee has saved me more than once, in ways only my heart knows!
I’ve been saved by a look across a room that said, “I see you.”
I’ve been saved by the kindness of someone offering to babysit, just so I could take a shower and find a moment of peace. I’ve been saved by a colleague who reminded me not to stretch myself too thin, that I didn’t need to extend myself to projects that weren’t mine to carry. I’ve been saved by the people glued to my side at my mother’s memorial, standing guard when the hyenas came at us—protecting me when I couldn’t protect myself.
I’ve been saved by a text that arrived at just the right moment, as though the universe knew I was falling apart. By a white feather floating down, showing up as a sign that everything would be okay.
I’ve been saved by a moment of deep sensual connection, the kind where worlds melt away and everything becomes distant and irrelevant. A touch that carried more meaning than I could ever put into words.
I’ve been saved by a new opportunity that showed up when I least expected it—just when I thought the doors had closed. It came quietly, as if to say, “There is still more for you.”
I’ve been saved by a long, hot shower on days when the weight of the world pressed so heavily on my chest, the steam and warmth slowly melting away my exhaustion. And by the first faint taste of lemon after many lonely years without flavour, the tartness lighting up my senses as if I were experiencing life all over again.
I’ve been saved by a mask-free restaurant during a time when everything felt suffocating, and by a little water slide tucked away in a place that opened its doors when my children and I needed to breathe again. We found a way to laugh, even when the world outside felt heavy.
Strangers, moments, places—they’ve all been my saviours. They remind me that, sometimes, salvation doesn’t come in grand gestures or from those you expect. It comes in small, quiet acts of kindness, in human connections that remind us we are never truly alone.
I’ve been saved, and in those moments, I’ve learnt that we are all, in our own way, capable of saving each other.
I see YOU,
Lee
Lee Mayimele 