The sun rose this morning.
I know it rises every morning. That's what it's supposed to do. For the first time in what seems forever I NOTICED it had risen. With the short winter days there were mornings I was accompanying my younger daughter to her bus stop in pitch black. This morning was pink. The sky turned sixteen different colors of mother of pearl. There was a glow, a gorgous glorious glow.
Spring may still be a little ways off, but I've found hope. Hope for this moment, in this day. Knowing the sun is going to rise.
It's going to be okay.