Early morning, with a long road ahead. It's a very particular time of day where I don't have to switch on any lights, but the entire house will be lit up with sun.
It does remind me of certain parts of my life, after long nights of terrors that make me wonder if I'll live to see sunrise each time.
But the sunlight that comes in each morning; I couldn't have done it without the people who unknowingly opened the windows for me.
It is the first friend I had in my new workplace, seven years older but a shared sense of humour. It is our similar complaints from our own partners to the common avenues we walk on. It is the way she has inspired me in religion and motherhood even before I embraced either.
It is the one year older friend I laughed over crossword puzzles with, hiding behind acrylic displays. It is the way we suffered by the same hand, giggling on our knees amid the magazine stacks. It is the comrade I almost saw as a best friend despite the names she called me.
It is the gem of a friend I'd only discover when our departments were forced to merge. It is the way she laughs at my jokes and listens to my rants, it is the way we help each other out on the days it was just us two, and the way she appreciated me every single time.
All these friends I unknowingly made after telling myself I wouldn't, the conversations in the pantry and hidden behind counters, handwritten letters and drawings of cats and my favourite pokemon that would be pinned onto my corkboard. I saw flecks of these when I first joined this job, but I told myself to ignore them and not to get too close.
But most of all, it is the group who asked if I would join them cycling. I remember standing by the back door of our workplace, punching in the passcode that would bring us to the shopfloor, when I was asked to join them. And that question, taking me by surprise, would change everything.
They gave me new memories on old routes, they took away the skepticism I had from cycling again after many years. The first time we went was at night, and cold bit into me but I was only feeling warmth from the friendship.
Again, I reminded myself of the past colleagues I saw as sisters who didn't feel the same way about me. More new memories replacing old ones, balancing on train tracks and walking treacherous trails. More tremors that threatened to break the walls I'd built.
We were playing by the beach on our second cycling trip when I felt that warmth again, seeing them on the swings and taking photos in the ocean breeze.
Life was abusive, I'd had an awful flight getting there, but I started daring to call them my friends. They weren't just colleagues anymore, and I already knew I was falling. So soft and quiet, I was the only one who noticed the falling of the snow on the beach that blazing day.
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