On the gentlest of wings, soft as a butterfly, love drifts down, like a sigh from heaven. Where the tornado ravaged, leaving death and destruction, where the bodies lay strewn across the ground, where nothing was left standing, now the smallest flutter of life pushes through the soil. The storm clouds begin to break, and I blink through the haze. A tiny dove carrying peace settles in my upturned soul, and for the first time in a long time, I step into the light. Morning breaks. I blink several times and meet Mrs. Jenny’s worried eyes. She waits, and I look around. “What day is it?”
