On optimism and hope

The fog has cleared on our Island sufficiently for us to poke our heads out of the door and venture into the crisp cold air. Like the eternal optimism of spring bulbs, the first sign of solar warmth drives us to cast off all care and emerge from our warm surroundings. We pick up a bucket and spade and jump into Grandma's old car and head for the beach. The sun is so bright, we can hardly bear it as we sit in the warm wet sand and build real estate. Even our Pacific North West bodies can only take so much, so we head back to town for hot chocolate. We pass a sign that says, "5 more months to wearing swimwear" and suddenly I am depressed. Oh how fragile is our optimism. We order our hot chocolate at the cafe Luna and sit warming our faces in the sun outside. Alex tells me that he's had a wonderful time as he licks his cocoa mustache from his top lip. Apparently, a bucket of wet sand and a cocoa in the sun is all it takes and I remind myself to enjoy the little things in life. I am hauled out of my reverie by a poster in the framing shop window. It is of our President Elect, (tomorrow he will no longer be Elect, but just plain old President". There is only one word on the poster and that is "Hope", which is an odd emotion to tie on this remarkable man. Hope is what you do when you go out for the day. "I hope it won"t rain", or "I hope the ferry is not late". Hope implies there isn't much you can do about the situation, so just pucker up and take it. I say this because I don't think people are just hoping he"ll make a difference. From what I see, people all over the world are mobilizing and using his presidency as a catalyst to change their world. I have more pressing needs however, as my cocoa is getting cold, and so is my son. If I get home in time, I'll be able to watch the sun go down over the Olympics, and If I'm really lucky, Mt Baker will be glowing in the distance.