We are always in search of something, a new level of self, trying too hard to be happy, wishing we were fearless enough to follow our heart and not the world around.Through many long winters of my life, I could see how the trees, from October till May, so gray and apparently dead and dried up, held inside the beauty of a spring to come. Tired of shivering, I moved away again knowing that still, some of my days, weeks, even years, may look like the trees of a Torontonian March. But there is joy to be found in every moment - so I embrace it and write about it, knowing all along that, when the winter passes by, we're free to lay down on the grass, gaze at the sky and grow wings.
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