The first step of light.

"Spring does not begin in the calendar, but where the heart dares to hope again."

It was morning, a real, fresh morning, when the air still stings a little, but the sun is no longer afraid to show itself. Here and there, ice still remained on the sidewalk, but something else was already glistening on the edges of the puddles: not the cold light of frost, but the promise of spring.

An old uncle was walking slowly towards the park. He was leaning on his cane, but his steps were lighter than in recent weeks. He stopped next to a patch of snow, in the middle of which a small brown spot was visible: a bud was trying to break through the ground.

He leaned down to it, as if talking to a child:

- So, are you bored with winter too?

The wind moved the branches in response, and a sparrow chirped once, as if to say: "Yes. That's enough."

The uncle smiled. It wasn't much, just a bud, a bird, a ray of sunshine. But in that moment, it felt as if the whole world was whispering, "We survived. Again."

As he walked on, he no longer paid attention to the cold, but to how good it felt not to slip, not to be afraid of the next step. And he thought that spring doesn't come according to a calendar, but when a person's heart feels like looking forward again.

The sun crept a little higher in the sky.

The bud didn't give up.

The sparrow chirped again.

And the world, very quietly, began to smile.

And when the light no longer only warms, but also encourages, then we know: the slippery roads are behind us.