This morning kicked off with a gentle snowfall, one of those cozy, cinematic moments where even the evergreen bushes looked like they got a dusting of powdered sugar. I thought maybe today would be one for blankets and hot tea. But then my eldest son called.
Heβs been busy, first job, new rhythms, real-world hours. We hadnβt walked together in months. And suddenly, it didnβt matter that the snow melted into cold drizzle or that the canal path promised soggy shoes. What mattered was that we laced up anyway.
We wandered past moody skies and glassy waters, slipping into that familiar cadence of conversations that loop and linger. No agenda. Just steps and stories. The trees were bare, the light was blue, and everything felt a little hushed, like the world was letting us catch up.
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