Finding my way out of this flu/cold/virus/Trumpmoania (defined as physical, mental and moral misery derived from one cabinet member choice being more dangerous than the next), and looking out the window at the sun coming up behind bare trees, and just for a moment, I am hopeful.

I remember that the beauty in the world still exists (for now) in the natural surroundings and inclinations of most people. I remember that love is powerful and can’t, as a popular saying espouses, conquer all, but can do quite a bit. I remember that hope and possibility are sparkly beacons, and that no matter what gratitude is always within reach.