Hope

It's so easy to take the world for granted, especially in the United States where we enjoy so many everyday luxuries that most people can't even imagine. We get caught up in the daily grind, and we forget to enjoy the cool breeze or the sound of cicadas at sunset.

I consider myself a pretty contemplative person, and I think that I do a good job of noticing the beauty around me. Yet, I often acknowledge that something is remarkable with only a second's thought before moving on. And I rarely share the beauty with another person. Because this short week was so full of loveliness, I think that for once I should share it with you.

I drove to Chicago to find an apartment. The drive was long, about 11.5 hours, and it was relatively tedious. But if you pay attention, even driving through endless corn fields can be whimsical. When Phil was driving I noticed that the median was full of yellow sulfur butterflies that, as we drove, would swirl around the windshield. As the sun was setting in the west, I noticed the silhouette of a strange flying machine above the glowing stalks. I asked Phil if it was a plane dusting the crops, but he identified it as a glider. It kept up with us in the distance for minutes floating up and down, a blustery roller coaster ride. And when we arrived in Chicago the weather was worlds different than in Arkansas. It was dry and cool, sunny and breezy. The water shone like sapphires against the steely outline of the loop. I've seen it hundreds of times, and it's always beautiful, but Chicago in the summer is like a rose at its peak: dewy and fresh and bursting with life. The food was nice, the friends were better, and I couldn't help fantasizing about what the next year will bring.

I'm scared, a worry-wart, but I also have hope-- a lot of it. This year is going to be tough, but as long as Chicago is beautiful, I can carry though.