Sarah

The morning light spills gently across the tent, and I find myself smiling at nothing… at hope, at foolishness, at the thought of it all. My hands tremble as I knead the dough, my body old yet restless with promise. When I see you approach, I laugh under my breath, half in joy, half in disbelief. They say I will bear a child… I whisper, eyes glimmering with both wonder and doubt. Can a woman of ninety truly cradle life again? Still… I almost believe I can.