Minutes after we received the phone call that she had passed away, we stepped out into the wintry yard, numb from more than cold. We didn't speak. The breath that crystallized in the air between us was enough. The sun rose, threatening to melt the pristine snow into muddy sludge, but for one pure moment, it was she, catching the white world on fire in a final celebration. We looked back at the house for a while, somehow yellow in the dawn. Before the cold could settle into our bones, we turned and headed back inside. The crunching of our boots was the only thing we said to each other. It was enough.
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