It comes every year. The nights grow longer. The cold deepens. Life slows down. People stay indoors, emotions run high, and tempers run short. Daylight hours are all too brief. Night seems an eternity.
Some things don't heal, or they heal in a way that every day there's a reminder that it's not like it was before, and never will be again.
Somehow, these words can have a monumental impact on someone the author will never meet, due to time or distance or both.
The mask. The bane of my existence and my Savior. The air in my lungs and the poison in my veins.