In the silence of the morning, the postman brings me an envelope of silver.
When I open it, a sky of blue sweeps out and lights the hallway with its luminescence. It is a card, but, at the same time, it is not just a card.
On this card are words of deepest, royalest blue, two sets of words, on each side of the pristine white pages. One set has me shake my head in bewilderment for a moment, because I recognise these words; these words are mine.
Yet it is not my own words that make me smile the blissful, unencumbered smile of an infant, it is those of a friend; it is childhood bonds and laughter ringing out like bells and the eternal spring of hope.
And it is that which sets this grey, drenched sky a radiant shade of blue.
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