March On.

Today the sun shone brightly on the Hudson River. Jackets opened, faces softened, hope sprang to life. The sweetest soul brought armfuls of tulips, pastel bright lights to our dank house of gloom. We spoke of changing seasons and emerging from hibernation, our sickly bodies stretching in the fresh air. Everyone is speaking of that, lately. Another year comes full circle, and we near the light at the end of the tunnel.

Only, in this case, reaching the light doesn't mean we're dead.

It means we made it out alive.