A Winter Morning

It is often like that, a moment takes on a special sort of significance, something beyond the ordinary day, which changes everything. It started out much like any other day. It was sunny and unusually warm for a February day.

For years, she had regarded February as the worst month of the year. By the time February came around, she had grown tired of the winter. The grey dull days of February seemed to be endless, following one after the other. Sometimes she felt as though it would never be spring again.

This one Sunday morning seemed different, though. She awoke to the sharp sunlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains with a strong, solid-seeming shaft of light where the dust motes danced languidly.

For some reason she had woken easily and eager. Not at all like her usual reluctant, hesitant surfacing from some deep, dark ocean. She felt reborn in some way, full of life and energy.

She threw back the sheets and stepped straight out of bed and into the beam of sunlight. It felt warm, almost alive on her naked skin.

She pulled back the curtains and stood blinking, but smiling, in the warm light. Outside the grey dull world seemed to have woken up too. It had turned green and light. It too seemed almost eager for the return of spring.