For a moment, the wind moved through the leaves with a sound almost like whispering.
I thought of my mother.
Of snow.
Of secrets.
Of the light that found us anyway.
Julian ran back to me, cheeks flushed, holding a daisy in his small hand.
“For you, Mommy,” he said.
I knelt and took it.
“Thank you, my love.”
He looked up at the tree. “Is Grandma Sofia here?”
I smiled through sudden tears.
“Yes,” I said. “In a way.”
He considered that with the seriousness only children can bring to mysteries. Then he pressed his palm to the trunk.
“Hi, Grandma,” he whispered. “We’re okay.”
The leaves trembled above us, bright as little pieces of sun.
And for the first time, I did not look back at the mountain and remember falling.
I remembered being found.
THE END
