The days began to take on a rhythm again.
Our mornings started with prayer — a quiet circle in our little living room, where each voice rose like a soft flame.
I would watch my children bow their heads and feel a deep peace I hadn't known in years.
We had so little, yet our home felt full.
The laughter that once seemed lost began to return, timid at first, then louder, freer.
I caught myself smiling for no reason, realizing that joy had quietly returned to my doorstep.
My husband and I worked side by side, trading, saving, and building — not much, but enough to keep the light on and hope alive.
In the stillness of each dawn, I felt Mama's spirit near, smiling at how far we had come.