Yesterday morning, I walked Suzanne to the bus stop. It was cloudy and overcast and I wasn't thinking about much except everything I had to get through that day when Suzanne said suddenly, "Mom, look!" And I looked, and there was a little slice of a rainbow up there. I hadn't seen it because I was looking at the sidewalk. The sight cheered me up. I thought, I am going to look for wonder today; I'm just going to see if I do that, if the day will be really different.
And then, of course, I forgot. So much to do--the usual slog of work and phone calls and never-ending errands, capped off by not one but two start-of-the-school-year meetings early in the evening. I was driving home from the last one last night, looking forward to watching the Democratic convention, listening to John Mayer's "Waiting for the World to Change" on the car radio. And then, finally, I got a chance to sit down in front of the television--and there, sooner than I was ready for it, was the sight of Obama striding to the podium to accept the nomination, and involuntarily I said, "Oh my God." Earlier, Suzanne had said to me, "What is the big deal about Obama?" and I said, "Oh, to be young enough to ask that question."
After the speech I went outside and looked up, just to check the weather before I went to bed, and I thought about waiting for the world to change. And I was grateful for the fact that along with the momentous and frightening changes that seem to be hurtling towards us all every day, there is that little slice of something that tells us it's not all bad, that it is our job to keep our heads up and keep going. Because sometimes, in the most improbable and unexpected of ways, the world does change.
