Sitting outside as the storm gathers, on the outer edge of it: thinking that all things have their edges good or bad, where they begin.
Early morning walks from the cottage in January as the light is coming on earlier day by day.
Knowing we had it good then but not realizing how much.
That jig-saw view of life taken apart, put back together.
It is this time, I think to myself on the couch, that I will want to keep with me forever.