Funny, the associations a restless mind makes, the vain indulgences of a wounded heart. But the mind can be its own savior. I understand my emotions are real, but they are often petty; so I snub them out, flicking them into the snow and crushing them with my boots, judging them childish and beneath me. Here is my family, in this room, in our home, the only citizens in our own private country. And here I am, too. We worked hard to get here, very hard, and we have to stop ourselves from spoiling it. And so I pay attention to the small and temporary, and feel the large and timeless, and fight the meanness in me day by day, moment by moment. Our family fights not to survive but to stay strong enough to wonder, each day, how to live well.And we are not satisfied with wondering about the good life. We get up and turn into the wind and damn well try to make it happen.