Hope
Oh, what a world I'm leaving you, Damien.
He sits on my lap as I read him his bedtime story. He snorts and snuffs with the rhinoceros, ruffs with the little dogs, and quacks with the duck. To him, the world is so simple. Cows moo, sheep baa. The only confusion is whether pigs say oink or "la, la, la". He doesn't read the news headlines. How could he possibly understand how much the world is opposed to him? Why would I even want him to know?
We finish the book, and I turn out the light. I get out the rosary blessed by Blessed John Paul the Great (he will get upset if I don't), he makes the sign of the cross with it (always sure to kiss the crucifix), and we pray. I pray the sorrowful mysteries tonight. It seems it's always the night for the sorrowful mysteries. They fit my mood of late, as I really don't see much to take joy in.
One wonders where our country turned so very wrong. Why did we decide to abandon our foundational principles in favor of sexual licentiousness? I remember when I was a kid, hearing boomers apologize for how they had messed up the world, and telling me that the burden would be on my generation to fix it.
It looks like I'll have to pass that burden on to you.
