The weather warmed and though snow still clung in the shadows, the sun beckoned two sisters to a picnic.
Two sisters sat in the sun with Nutella, an apple and an old stuffed dog, telling stories in the fresh country air until one of them saw a bear.
They giggled and squealed until the game suddenly became too real. Their imagination left them running and screaming back to the house where they tumbled in, faces flushed, out of breath.
And my soul rejoiced.
My soul rejoiced because the last time my little L.E. played outside was the day before the accident. I’ve watched her change. I’ve watched her sink into herself. I’ve watched her and prayed for her and worried over her and held her. I’ve listened to her and talked to her and reassured her and held her.
But she became quieter and more withdrawn and more distant from the little L.E. I once knew and I didn’t know how to call her back.
But then the sun called to her and she answered. She went for a picnic and was frightened by a bear she and her sister spoke into a story.
And that is the little L.E. I know. Full of life and imagination and a love for outdoors.
The sun shone and hope blossomed.