When we stepped out into the late morning sun, I heard birds, the kind you hear in spring, and I didn't have to wear my gloves for a bit. The snow was thawing in sheltered corners, drops of water glistening, and people smiled as they passed. I know it is too soon; I know this is but a false start. I am encouraged, nonetheless.
Later, I walked to my sister's to pick up pots and pans, the details of a home for my shell of one. I crossed the cemetery, the church rose statuesque and quiet, as it always does, the ground was thick with snow, the early evening black. A letter landed in my inbox, tales of babies at risk and parents in fear, my helplessness painted trails behind me.
It will be alright. We must wait, we must be patient, we must weather this storm. Spring will come, in time.
Literally, too.
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