Tracks

The crunch the snow makes after resting on a hillside for a few weeks; the sight of deer tracks right beside my own; cousins, belonging; singing songs without knowing all the words (🎶hmm, ba da da da ma da, Madrigal! 🎼Under the surface, hem en em en em a…whoa oh oh oh!)

Our afternoon at Spring Lake.

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Angela

I write so my family will always have letters from home.