Mira sat at her old kitchen table, cradling a cup of tea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Outside, Easter blooms were fading. But inside, something was just beginning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She thought of all the times she\u2019d hurt. All the things she\u2019d said. All the things she\u2019d left unsaid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then she remembered a message from that morning\u2019s Easter service:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cUse the sponge of forgiveness to wipe the slate clean.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She stood, found an old sponge, and dipped it in warm water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She wiped her bench.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She wiped her windows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She wiped the tiny whiteboard on her fridge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Each motion was small, but something inside her shifted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She whispered:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI forgive you\u2026
I forgive me\u2026
I let it go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Outside, a leaf dropped from the tree.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It didn\u2019t fight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It simply fell\u2014gracefully\u2014making room for the new.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Poetic Close:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n You don\u2019t need to wait for spring to bloom. Begin again.
Forgiveness is a season of the soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In love.
In peace.
In light.<\/p>\n\n\n\naudio version:<\/h2>\n\n\n\n