This morning I was on the road early, traveling up to NH for a morning of classroom visits. As I drove along, I was thinking about the state of the world and how frightening it can all seem sometimes. I said a prayer for the world to be a little kinder and to slow down to appreciate the simple pleasures of life.
Along the highway there came a place where the road widened out to accomodate a scenic overlook. A fiery orange sun was just rising over foothills shrouded with morning mist. First I noticed the car that had parked there. Then I noticed something else: An adult sat on the guardrail, facing the foothills. The adult held a child in his or her lap. Both were parka-clad with hoods up, huddled together for warmth in the chilly morning air.
There, on a manic Monday morning, when most of the world was still rubbing its eyes awake and finishing that first cup of coffee during the morning commute, a parent had decided that it was extremely important to share the rising of the sun over the misty foothills of Western Massachusetts with his or her child. It was the most comforting sight, and the memory of it stayed with me throughout the day.