the first breath

The year begins wrapped in a white blanket, the snow lying smooth and unbroken beneath a fine, powdery surface. I step onto it and feel the gentle resistance under my feet, soft and quiet, while the crust catches the early sun and shimmers lightly, each grain holding a trace of brightness. In that meeting of fragile texture and steady ground, hope feels physical and close,

as if this new beginning is something I can stand on, trust, and move forward with care.

January 2025
Primrose at home