There was so much gloom and gray. The rain pounded for days at a time. The chill drilled down into her bones. And just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, a tiny flower opened up in the sunshine. The geranium–one that her father had groomed and grown–was on its last legs. She’d been holding tight to the little flutters of green clinging to the branches, clinging with it in hope. And with its beautiful blush petals, this gift from her father announced it wasn’t done yet. There was still life to spring forward.
