a new day

Yesterday, leaden clouds relentlessly unhanded curtains of blinding snow conjuring ghostly white phantoms that obscured any desired path forward. Today, a milder breeze has replaced the viscous blizzard with its rugged, icy winds and instead gently sways stately maples and pines and quivering naked stems. The heavy snow that formed impassable drifts, smothered everything that was green, and kept us huddled inside to ourselves, is melting off to reveal scads of jubilant buds. And while the air is still chilled the low winter sun radiates from a promising azure sky.

Today the house is basking in sunbeams as drops of water slide off the tips of crystal icicles. Hardwood planks creak and expand slightly from the warmth of rays shining through large southern panes flooding the rooms with brilliant light that extends beyond the glass doors and windows to the snowy banks outside.

Unlike yesterday, today seems filled with opportunity, a chance to open my eyes—as if for the first time—and look to the sky, to get outside and breathe the fresh air, to stretch my limbs as wide as they can reach. Today I am mindful of how fortunate I am to be alive, to simply greet my son Calvin when the bus brings him home from school, and to say thank you and farewell to his driver and caregivers. I will dwell in the sheer delight that Calvin brings me with his animated smiles and quirky gestures, which visibly expresses his happiness to be home once again.

Yes, today is a new day, and tomorrow another.