Outside my window, just as within my own heart, things are changing. Every day our ground becomes less white and more brown. There are even tiny sprouts of green here and there. It's April, it's time. However, for me it feels too soon. It feels too soon to change. I'm not ready.
I am healing. My body has all but erased any trace of Eli's presence. My outer scar from the c-section is now just a thin jagged line. The milk has dried up. Even my headaches, which had become a daily occurrence I contribute to grieving, have lessened. My heart, just four weeks ago shattered, seems to be gluing itself together. Tears fall fewer and farther between. I hear the sound of laughter, my laughter. I left the house by myself this week, twice.
Just as the ground outside, unable to escape the sun's warm rays, cannot hold onto its cool white blanket, I cannot stay wrapped in my own blanket of grief. Change is inevitable. The only constant in life is change and I am now caught within its tides.