The day the light returned.

It was still cold in the morning. The sky looked down gray, as if it knew in advance that there would be a lot of business to take care of today.

The lights were off, the house was dark, but somewhere inside a small flame was already burning — not of anger, but of determination.

The lady at customer service was tired, life had tested everyone again.

But calm, once someone can hold it, like water its bed, will guide everything back to its place.

The papers that were missing were there.

The death certificate was found.

The power of attorney was ready.

And in the meantime, the sun was also creeping higher, as if the sky itself knew that this day would not be about mistakes, but about patience that creates order.

Meanwhile, other problems surfaced: a lost wallet, a car to sell, missing bills, old acquaintances, new faces, an airport, a parking lot, a promise.

Every movement, every phone call, every sentence spoken was a tiny cog in the machine that one can only call with one word: life.

And in the evening, when the news arrived that the power had been turned back on, no one celebrated.

There was no need.

The light did not come back in the wires, but in the people who did not give up.

At the end of the day, when he bought a croissant for someone he loved in the store, that was the real closing.

Because the light returned — not only to the house, but also to the hearts of all those who had done their work all day in silence, without anger, but with faith.