I wake and rise and sniff outside, and then I read the news and therein, the mistake.
It is again more than one can take. A wonderful father and husband is shot driving on the freeway because he cut someone off. He drives for a living and has a perfect driving record and his two young children were in the car, and perhaps he made a mistake, and he is shot, and he is dead.
How can one begin the day with that, and we do, day after day.
And so it is. I reach inside for a smile and play with upward curves.
I light a candle today and watch the flame.