The Slow Return of Joy
Weeks passed quietly.
Gradually, Lily began to smile again.
She spent afternoons drawing colorful pictures at the kitchen table while humming softly to herself.
The heaviness that once surrounded her slowly faded.
One evening, we walked through a nearby park just before sunset.
The sky glowed with soft orange light as clouds drifted slowly overhead.
Lily suddenly pointed upward.
— “Mom, do you see that cloud?” — she asked.
I followed her gaze.
The cloud had an unusual shape.
— “It looks like a dragon,” — she said.
I smiled.
— “You’re right,” — I replied.
She watched it carefully as it drifted across the sky.
— “The dragon is flying away,” — she whispered.
Her small hand slipped into mine.
In that moment, I understood that healing sometimes begins with the smallest sparks of imagination.
