I used to hate naps. They’d leave me either groggy or panicked, wondering how long I’d been out, if I’d missed something important, or forgotten to do something. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to appreciate them. Naps, long considered the domain of babies and old folks, have become an unexpected gift. At 35, I don’t schedule them or anything, but when a nap happens naturally, it feels like a win. I wake up thinking, “Hell yeah, I just napped.” It’s not just rest—it’s reclaiming a little moment of peace in the chaos. Naps have officially grown on me.