Poem about rising and resiliency

I am standing at the seasonal threshold, where memories of family and friends have been tenderly woven into the content of the boxes I unpack. Photographs of Christmas past bring a bittersweetness to my chest, and I find myself longing for the touch of my nana, or the reassuring love of my friend, Linda. The bear hugs and the endearing teasing of my father, and the sound of pots clanging and water boiling over on the stove from my women elders, the steam frosted the windows,