The Passing of Time 


It’s a breathtaking morning here. One of those mornings that happen only when it’s right on the cusp of spring. Kind of like winter’s last stand.

6am. And there’s this thick blanket of fog that is covering the backyard, with only the faint shadow of the spindly tree branches cutting through. It’s as though the view from my window has an eerily romantic Instagram filter. A cardinal is perched on the statue outside, and its red coloring is muted, yet brilliant against the frost.

This dreamy scene reminds me that spring is on its way.

And as beautiful as it is, it pulls at the pit of my stomach.

It’s the passing of time. 

When I came home from NYC for Christmas, I was expecting to be home for 7 days, and then be back to ring in the New Year from Manhattan.

Then my mom’s stroke happened and a)

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