Long, tiring day finally slows to its end.
Home comes into view, a longed-for sight.
Car in park, seat belt off.
Car door opens as frigid wind accosts my skin.
It's so much colder here in the cove.
I gaze down the road.
That lovely God-created bowl, carved out among mountains high.
This must be... heaven on earth.
Lungs burn deep from blustering breezes, a gentle reminder that winter's bearing down hard.
I open the mailbox, grasping at bills and advertisements and worthless ink on pages.
There, peeking out from a perfunctory pile of papers, it catches my eye.
Pink edges, bearing the name of a dear one.
No address, just a name.
A name that stirs my heart to know what's inside.
I'm a child on Christmas morning, expectant and excited, clutching a package that craves to be opened.
Letter, handwritten, ink all pink.
Short, but enough.
Enough to cause me to linger and read over and over...
Enough to stir joy and gladness and love.
Enough... it's just... enough.
A reminder of a scripture sent long ago.
Gratitude for friendship and love.
Joy in sisterhood of the soul.
My gifts, as I journey to one thousand, multiply every moment.
I am surrounded and blessed by grace.
All is grace.