March was an ordinary month, full of the usual things. Nothing newsworthy. Nothing of note.
Just the steady rotation of the planet, the continued journey around the sun, the lengthening and the warming of days . . .
Which is to say, it was perfect.
Because sometimes to carry on living is enough. To make and bake and play and plant and eat and be together, and to see the flowers bloom again.
It's enough. And it's everything.
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