Sunrise was pink at the horizon with two blue-purple streaks above. Light was everywhere, scattered from the bright soft snow that had fallen quietly in the dark.

All day long there were surprises. Conversations, tree shapes, icicles. Plans sketched out on a sheet of paper. Books. Songs. Tastes. Hawks. A laptop keyboard cold from riding in the car.

Just as the sun lay down on the hilltop, a bird lit in a bare sycamore tree as we walked by. A bluebird. So shadowed, and then so bright as it flew. What happiness rose up as our breath floated off on the air.