Leo smiled. “That’s May’s problem. Right now, we’re still in April.”
On the third week, something shifted. The dogwood tree in the backyard, which Leo had been sure was dead, exploded in white blossoms overnight. Maya ran inside, muddy shoes and all, dragging him by the hand. spring month in usa
Leo stood on the wet grass, staring at the tree Eleanor had planted twenty years ago. A mourning dove cooed from a low branch. The air smelled like rain and crushed mint. For the first time since January, he felt something other than absence. He felt a crack of warmth, thin as a spring sapling, push through the frost in his chest. Leo smiled