Tuesday, August 2, 2016
The news was bad today, with seventy-seven dead in a terrorist attack in Nice. It's hard to process, especially when you have two young kids at home—and when it seems to happen every week. I hear my dog scratch at the back door and let her in, leaving my three year old on the potty and my one year old on the other side of the baby gate. It's after eight pm, and the night air—not cool, not warm—envelopes me. The string lights hanging from the porch ceiling catch my eye. I feel the urge to return and make sure my kids are safe, but I also feel compelled to plug in the lights, let their soft orange glow brighten up my little corner of the night, and have one moment of quiet beauty.