Months of conflict have led to this:

I am sensible enough now, or at least I think I'm sensible enough, to know that just because things are beautiful it doesn't mean they're eternal. And I know that things will not always be the same. I know that everyday we wake up and the world is a little bit shifted, a little bit new, and that one morning we wake up years and years later and realize things have been changing all this time and we never stopped to notice.

Forgetting that we couldn't have stopped if we had tried.

However,

I'm shaking out the optimist in me like an old tablecloth. Letting it settle with a comforting weight over the flaws and nicks and hide them from my view.

I will forget these things because it is the happier way to live. I want to believe in all of the things this season tries to make true. Like the holiness of blessings and the ever elusive myth of peace of earth and goodwill toward men.