dry air

I sit and listen. 

Sunlight from the bathroom window pinging off the porcelain sink.  It falls out the open door and lays itself down across the rug. 

The girls are still sleeping.  BC gone. The house is whispering. 

I take a breath enjoying the peacefulness. 

I am sick and my chest hurts.  The air in my lungs feels like dust. It reminds me of something.  In the silence it only takes a moment to know exactly what: a conifer covered trail bathed in afternoon light. A forest cooking with pine, trail dust, and sweat. Stupid Salt Lake Overlook, I mutter.

But that's how I know winter is truly over...