Squall

The snow, when it comes, is a monster, appearing out of nowhere and burying you in a second. You see videos later and it looks like an avalanche burying the city. The snow leaves arctic air in its wake, every step carefully calculated against risk and reward. We make our way into an old townhouse off 5th avenue, the ballroom coming alive with story and you marvel at New York City magic, how it appears and reappears at every turn. I whisper my gratitude into the night, and again, and again. Sometimes love overwhelms us when we forget to look for it, it rolls like waves through our insides and grows us whether we want to or not. Love is not proud. It always perseveres.

The day is mild again, the sun setting in fire at the other end of the bay, every step I take is in gratitude now, do you know that? At some point all the shattered pieces within me healed, at some point I could look in the mirror and recognize my face again, love is patient, love is kind. The darkest day of the year is behind us now.

Every step beyond this is a gift
is a
triumph.