I see small miracles now.
Oh, low and quiet: yesterday, after the funeral, I convinced Ryan to go on a walk in the woods with me and the pups. He isn't a great fan of Hay Creek in winter, mainly because after they paved over our dirt trails, he's felt the popular push, particularly with the snowmobiles, of which we saw too many, though I pointed out there are parallel trails without motorized traffic.
But there was this moment when Ryan and the dogs continued on the trail, somehow knowing I needed a quiet pace of my own. I breathed, I listened to the creak of branches against branch, I knew he was up there somewhere, and I whispered that strange hello.
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