She had spent months looking down—at sidewalks, at her hands, at the weight of everything that felt impossible to carry. But this morning, something stirred. A sound, perhaps. The flutter of wings overhead.

When she finally lifted her face to the sky, the world shifted. The birds weren't just flying—they were showing her the way up, the way beyond the heaviness that had settled in her chest. In that single moment of looking above, she remembered: sometimes grace arrives not when we're ready, but when we're finally willing to see it.

The ascension had already begun.

by Jordyn Aamo†