We can’t command fate to be more fair. We can’t wrestle tragedy into submission, complain to some cosmic general manager or direct life into a more balanced narrative. We can’t guarantee our children a safe planet. We can’t comprehend world events that make the violent excess of Michael Bay movies seem understated.
But we can be sure of a few things: that marshmallows are better roasted, that hot chocolate smoothes a frayed soul and that when you snuggle with those you love around a fireplace you rekindle hope.
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