Hope is precious and a curious mix of fragile and tenacious. It can be dashed with a few simple words or survive the most intense oppression.

At some point in the last few weeks or months I seemed to lose a lot of hope. Yesterday, after chatting with a dear friend who reminded me of past accomplishments, I found it again. Or, it was created again. Does hope wax and wane, or is it simply created anew?

Either way, a couple of half-baked trilogies can’t completely erase the magic of a new hope.