Thick snowflakes tumbled from the sky, creating a lacy curtain that hugged the window pane. Riveted, I couldn't look away from the white world swirling just out of my reach, as if the snow were a new phenomenon. As my gaze lingered, I sat on the edge of the bed thinking how much my window served as a time line in my life. I'd felt the sun rays seep through, watched pounding raindrops and falling leaves, and now snow. I wondered if the time had come to return to my husband.
My journey home that previous June came under veiled pretenses. I didn't need to "heal" from losing twins. I needed my husband to make his way back to me. My grief swelled because of the distance that had cropped up in our marriage as much as our physical loss. He insisted I needed my family. I swore I needed him. This time apart would confirm one of our claims.