Thursday, November 13, 2014
It isn't easy out here.
We have dreams, and the path ahead isn't clear. We were promised, and the promise vanishes. We love, but some of those we love are missing. We are full of hope and that hope is splintered (compromised) by the facts as we know them, the counts against us, the world as it is, so much that is breaking apart.
In the afternoon a neighbor tells a heartbreaking story.
In the evening a friend writes of hurt.
In the morning a shattering email arrives.
Desire is so open-ended.
Tomorrow is a distance.
Certainty is breached.
Today, following a legendary four-and-a-half-month search—dozens of interviews, so many almosts—my son begins a new job. Nothing has ever mattered to me more than his happiness and, let's face it, I am nearly powerless. In the end, he did it all—strategically searched, persevered, did the work on complex projects, showed up for the interviews, landed the job.
I don't know what tomorrow will bring. Nothing seems sure to me anymore. What I know is what I continue to learn from my son—about holding fast, not giving up, enduring through optimism, placing faith in creativity. Again and again, since July, my son has told me this simple and profound tale: Tomorrow is a new day, and a new chance.
For all those I love, for those who are hurting, for those who can't see through the windowpanes just now: Tomorrow will come and with it some sun.