The sun streams through my kitchen window, hugging my wood floor with warmth. The smell of the carrot cake I am cooking fills the air and my house plants, that prefer my company to the open air outdoors, stretch towards the backdoor.
Banishing sorrow like shadows, the sun of this spring day lifts my sprits with a gentle acceptance. It is not the acceptance of defeat or helplessness. It is the trust that even when bad things happen, horrible things; the sun still comes and winter carries forever the promise of spring.
Glancing to my living room window from my computer desk, I see a rainstorm moving over the roof of the houses across the way. I wonder if I was to walk outside, if I might catch the faint smell of rain.
The scent of cinnamon and carrots and baking, which is a little electric, fills each breath. Soon, my husband will return from his adventures, carrying my daughter and the dog that didn't mind waiting in the car. I can't help but watch the window for their arrival.
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