March
On the first warm morning
The window was open for the first time in months. Something in the room changed — not the light, but the way it moved. I left my coffee to go cold, watching.
the journal
Small notes, kept here.
February
Coming home after 7
There is a particular hour, after the day has been spent, when the house feels like it belongs to you again. The lamp. The quiet. The slow return.
January
Rain, and then the garden
After the rain, the garden smelled like itself, only more so. Wet earth, green, a little cold. We tried to keep some of it.