It was on a day when the wind felt like a knife. She felt wounded, vulnerable, especially when the icy fingers got through the weak spots in her coat. She always loved winter's beauty, but not its feel. It made everything feel dead inside. It heightened the numbness, the thickness, that had been growing so dense over time.

But on this day, upon opening her mail, a bit of warmth trickled in where it hadn't existed before - an anonymous postcard.

You are wonderful.
Just wanted to remind you of that.

No name. No postage to offer a hint.
Nothing but a card and a business envelope.

And despite the ice and snow on the mail center stoop, she sat down in her business clothes and cried.