Snowdrop

And then one morning, everything had changed. I woke early, the blinds up, an odd light painted along the walls, I knew it was different. There was such a thick fog out, the city lay blind in the steaming snow, winter was lifting. By the time the bus sped down the hill that overlooks the Stockholm inlet, all that remained was a slight mist, the entire view looked like a giant Turner painting. I couldn't help but smile.

The days since have passed in a string of sunlit pearls. There is light when we wake, there is light when we close the office doors behind us. This sunshine has the power to pierce our veiled eyes. The children and I danced around the watered sidewalks and tried to uncover the singing birds, but really all we did was laugh. He writes to say I got words again, and I read and reread the sentence with such a whirl in my heart, because I know the feeling and it feels a lot like Life.

It begins now. The long days and singing heart. It begins now. Life.