There is something about light.

Not sunshine.

The first light before sunrise.

The moment when the darkness is still all around you, but something tells you it will not last.

Perhaps that is what hope has always been.

Not the absence of darkness.

The belief that this darkness is never the final chapter.

There are moments in life when every familiar landmark disappears.

The life you knew no longer exists.

The body you trusted speaks a different language.

The landmarks that once guided you are gone.

The future you imagined no longer exists.

You can no longer navigate by what you once knew to be true.

Even hope can lose its bearings.

In the darkest hour, it is easy to believe that nothing is changing.

But dawn never arrives all at once.

The darkness does not disappear.

It simply begins to give way.

Almost imperceptibly.

The horizon softens.

The shadows loosen their grip.

The world is already becoming something new, long before the sun appears.

Recovery often feels the same.

Not because every day brings a breakthrough, but because every day carries the possibility of one.

The first movement.

The first deeper breath.

The first moment your body reconnects with what it has always known.

Long before the world sees a new day, the horizon has already begun to brighten.

Sometimes faith is nothing more than believing that light is already on its way, even when all you can see is night.

And sometimes...

that is enough.