Today, stooped, with her hands five inches into the soil, she found happiness.

There was a first, subtle shift as the banked coals within her started glowing.

She tilled a bed for simple snapdragons, pink and yellow, carefully avoiding the jagged leaves of poppies now three inches high.

The passing joggers and stroller-pushing mommies gave only a glance to the middle-aged woman pulling shallow winter weeds between her perennials.

Better that they didn't realize…