When Winter Starts Portable Access

“Oh, but it does,” she said, reaching for a small brass bell on her mantel. “It loves a story. The first winter was born from a story—a mother telling her child that the dark cold wouldn’t last forever, that the sun would return. That story tamed it. Gave it a beginning and an end.”

It was the silence of something listening. And, perhaps, remembering how to let go. when winter starts

This year, something felt different.