I open my eyes to the sounds of the city.
Yawning, I unfurl my stiff fingers.
We both are.
A breeze brushes swiftly past us,
Probably hurrying off to work, Starbucks in hand.
There is something different about the air this morning.
A small bird hops across the sidewalk;
It has ordinary grey-brown feathers but its chest in a bold shade of vermillion – a robin.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, the gentle voice of a kindergarten teacher tells me that a robin is the first sign of spring.
Just the sight of it chases away the bleak memories of winter.
I watch as the bird opens its wings and takes flight, carrying the heaviness of my heart away into the sky.
My smile fades when I notice that the small figure huddled beside me has, after a long, harsh winter, stopped shivering.