I went walking last night, over to the park near my house. I walked in the same park the night of the 2016 election, in a state of unusual despair. It was dark that night. I struck up a conversation with a man who was there playing with his dog. I don’t think I ever saw his face. Tonight the park was lit up: my neighbors had lined it all the way round with luminarias. I’m grateful that people choose to place lights along the streets and sidewalks and on their houses. There is a reason we celebrate hope at the darkest time of the year. Darkness is the unknown. It is scary. It can be dangerous. But it is also the seat of possibility. In the dark, we see only by the lights that we choose.
10 Best of 2014
January: Wyoming and the Open
February: New Mexico and the Holes
Notes on The Accounts