An Audacious Solstice Is Upon Us

I stayed up late last night to see Obama's acceptance speech, so I'm more than a bit bleary-eyed as I get ready for work today. The sun's still not up on this new day, but the darkness cannot mask that something is different. It feels like Christmas came in the night and I should go downstairs and see if Santa brought gifts. It's an expectation, not that everything is now fixed, but that our journey towards darkness suddenly stopped. The sun halted in its tracks out in the solar system; a kind of solstice reigns over the gears of despair. In the pre-dawn I can feel us drifting to a halt. The screeching of brakes was last night; our bodies are gently shifting with the change as the train settles to a stop and prepares to head a new direction. It is eerie quiet. I know in my head that the weather will get colder for quite a while yet -- the worst is possibly yet to come -- but at least I have the inner assurance that spring will certainly come and with it the rewards of warmth and light. Before last night hope remained elusive. What a wonderful speech in Grant Park! I look forward to the dawn and the look on others' faces as I make my way into the city.