She Is Hope.

Walking down the main street of our city, making my way to the usual happy hour spot, I can't help but notice the weather very much matches the mood of the nation.

Only a few days have passed since the bombings At this point, one of the perpetrators is still at large. The city street mimicks a dreary scene in a Fitzgerald novel.  Our nation's and state's flaggs whip wildly in the piercing cold winds as mist droplets collect on my eyeglass lens.

I reach the corner where a light is about to change. Above me the flags whip violently in the vicious winds.  The outlines of the city buildings fade into the grey sky.  The flags are fighting against the wi to keep their vibrant colors, a symbol of our nation's pride.

A blue luxuary car, no longer in its full glory, sheepishly pulls up to the still changing light. It contains a family, mom behind the wheel with dad navigating from the front passanger seat.  Their child is in the back seat looking out the window with an age-appropriate childlike curiosity.  She is watching the outside world from the safety of her family's car with the same wide-eyed facination of an astronaut peering through her shuttle window.  The air isn't icey against her skin. The winds aren't biting at her cheeks. The outside world is still a marvelous wonder, even on this crap day. She is safe. She is warm and dry.   And she is willing to share a friendly smile and a polite wave with a complete stranger who is waiting for their car to pass.