Monday, March 21, 2016
I know because I hear their heavy hooves landing soft on the pasture outside the window. I can't see them, only the single broken line of light laid across the pond and the black silhouettes of trees barely visible. The sky teases with a rich shade of midnight blue that is several hours too late. Every day the world moves from blackness to deep color in those early hours. The blanket of dawn is cozy and full of promise. My life is too and I feel undeserving of such an offering.
Thursday, March 10, 2016
Friday, March 4, 2016
I remember those early weeks of settling in. Some mornings, being back seemed liking waking into a dream. I could hardly believe it was true.
One morning the fog sat heavy along the edge of the lake, like a still thick blanket. We drove through the heaviness and yet my soul felt light enough to fly. Finding your way back home can do that to you. I maneuvered my minivan down the hill and away from the towering stone building that held my earliest memories of school.
Lucy asked from the backseat, How far is it from Oliver's school back home?