There’s a little dove who visits us each day.

She doesn’t arrive with any ceremony. No song, no announcement, just a soft flutter and the gentle tap of small feet on the fence. If you weren’t looking, you might miss her entirely.

But once you notice her, you start to wait.

She has a silvered belly that catches the light, and a softness about her that feels both fragile and steady. She shuffles more than she walks, balancing on thin legs that somehow carry her with quiet confidence. Sometimes she washes her face in the garden bowl, as if she’s preparing for something important. Other times she simply struts along the fence, as though she owns it.

There’s a look in her eyes, curious, almost amused like she knows something I don’t.

If she could speak, I’m sure she’d tell me good news.

She never stays long. Never sings. But I leave her a small seedy snack, and she accepts it without fuss, often knocking the cup over in the process, before going on her way.

I’ve been thinking about her more than I expected.Because in my own way, I’ve been trying to come back too. Over the past two years, my life changed completely. I lost the use of my legs, my kidneys failed, and I went through a frightening illness that affected my whole body, organ failure, skin rashes, and long periods where I was essentially couch-bound.

But that little dove kept showing up.

Every single day.

In her own quiet way, she became a reminder that coming back doesn’t have to be dramatic. It can be small but constant.

Spring has come around again, and I’m beginning to feel a little stronger. My biggest wish is to walk again but for now I would like to keep building my strength, and to find a way back into the world outside my door.

I would love to be able to ride with my boys this summer, my legs don’t hold my weight but I can use a stationary bike.

I’ve started looking into adaptive tricycles, something that would allow me to get out safely and start moving again. I’ve even set up a small fundraiser to try and make that possible.

But more than anything, I hold onto the feeling

That one day soon,

A little dove comes by each day,frolicking along our fence,her belly glistening silver-soft and grey,her neck feathers warm and dense.

She shuffles and dances on spindly legsthat hold her weight so strong,she washes her face in the garden bowlthen waddles, strutting along.

I love the quizzical look in her eyes,as if she’s quietly amused,if she could talk instead of squawk,I’m sure she’d tell me good news.

She does not stay, nor sing a song,but I leave her a seedy snack,she gobbles it up, knocks over the cup,and I know she’ll soon be back.