…and I take comfort from memories there.

An evening of ill omens. The darker things reveal themselves to be, the calmer I feel. It’s a peculiar coincidence, if it’s anything…or is it? The younger I was, the more frantic I was…perhaps because nothing about the beautiful optimism of youth seemed right, and the unease of such a framework might have fueled my anxious temperament.

Perhaps, rather, it’s the shedding of helplessness…accompanied by all of the grim necessary knowledge that is needed to empower one to do so. My grandfather always seemed a bit too intelligent to be the religious type…as I had always found faith to be the enemy of logic. So I asked him about it; why do you go to church? He thought about it for a minute, and just shrugged; because sometimes you just have to say ‘hey…it’s out of my hands.’