I haven’t been following the presidential campaigns much these days, you know, because I’m busy doing nothing. I’ve read a bit about Hilary’s snafu’s and Obama’s middle name, I know that people think McCain is trustworth, but I think that is because he is old. Honestly, I find it all to be no different from the last election, give or take a few IQ points. The candidates will tell you what you want to hear, but at the end of the day its politics. I wish there was a way to believe that one of them will make a difference for me, for my children and for my grandchildren, but I don’t believe it. Our parents and grandparents thought they were making good choices, choices that would leave the world a better place for us. You see how well that’s turned out.

That being said, I have to admit to something: I am experiencing a new sort of hope, one not found in a million points of light or a galaxy of hope or whatever slogan the candidates are using these days. It’s the hope you get when all the things you thought were mundane and lame suddenly become wonderful and interesting.

Today, Yacob picked up his sippy cup and took a drink. Then he put some cheerios in his mouth, followed by a bit of cut up banana, then another drink. My heart stopped. It caught in my throat. My breath came out in spurts. I could see the future right that instant. I saw him as a doctor, or a tattoo artist. I saw his brother as a philosophy professor or a kept man. I saw hope.

My boys have taught me this: Despite all the chaos in the world, there is hope. I found hope today in a sippy cup and some cheerios.