Winter Garden

by Kristin Hannah

Hope is a fragile thing, easily broken if handled too much.

The hungrier and colder you get, the more your vision funnels to where you can’t see anyone beyond your own family.

And maybe that was how it was supposed to be, how life unfolded when you lived it long enough. Joy and sadness were part of the package; the trick, perhaps, was to let yourself feel all of it, but to hold on to the joy just a little more tightly because you never knew when a strong heart could just give out.

We all have to forgive and be forgiven if love is to grow and flourish.