The sun sets late behind the shed; you watch it from the porch over a glass of wine and everything is just as sweet and quiet as you could have asked for. It’s a wonder what a few hundred miles can do. The lake was frozen over, still, but the lawns are full of daffodils and the sun is mild in the sky, perhaps there is hope for us yet.
I drag myself out of the mud, every year the same dance of disbelief, how can I go through a whole life without learning what lies in my memories. Spring returns, the breath in your lung reappears, perhaps there is a life left to life after all and this year it might just be found at the end of this highway.
The face staring back at you in the mirror looks different, not like you thought you knew it, but it is still there. A full year of disaster has passed, and it is still there.
You are determined to make that count for something.
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