An older woman lies awake at 3 a.m. with thoughts she would not dare think in daylight. She does not sleep again — but she waits. Slowly, the light begins. She gets up, moves to the window, pulls back the curtains. The sky is pink and gold. And something lifts in her chest — not the erasure of last night’s heaviness, but something arriving alongside it, gentle and unhurried. She says softly, to no one and to God at once: “God gave me another sunrise.”
