Like bears emerging from hibernation, we would take a tentative step: eager, yet cautious; ravenous yet lethargic; wild, yet tamed by months spent in the close comfort of our small dens.

Sleepily and warily, but with teeming excitement, we would approach other den-isolators, sharing in the beauty of the blooming Spring flowers.

The fresh air would slowly revive us, carrying scents of long-forgotten picnics and park barbeques. The young cubs would run and play and climb up trees, bounding supernovas of energy.

Then we would eat - we would go out to get the very best grub, perhaps even go fishing as a family - something we wouldn’t have done before. Family, as we’ve learned in this den of ours, is our life force.

And if we were a bear, we would remember - we would write it in our genes. We would change our habits for evolution’s sake, we would not take things for granted, we would prepare our fat stores, we would protect the Earth, we would not invest in corruption, we would discern fact from falsehood, and most importantly, we would care for and protect each other. We would learn.

We would do what it takes so future generations - our cubs, our grand-cubs and our great-grand-cubs - would know what to do when the winter comes.

Alas, we are not bears. Unlike a bear, we will surely forget.

Challenge

How do you say, “I love you.” without using those exact words?

leabee

How much do you love me?

Mother: You do!? How much!? [her lips curl up in a smile, cheeks flushed with warmth]

Little girl to her mother: This is how much! [She jumps up from the bed. Her open arms stretch wide out, fingers reaching into the infinite space, beyond the smallness of her bedroom, past the moon, the sun and the stars]