My twin boys are perched with me on the glass hotel lobby balcony. Chandler making sketching noises as Gabriel estimates the number of lights in the Westin Gallery overlooking Fountain Square. His attention turns to the charming clock above the door at Tiffany & Company. Atlas holding up the world as a circle of time. I remember when I was their age, 16, the location the store occupied was a metered parking lot on the best piece of real estate in the much changed city. I had worked in the Carew Tower and fed the upscale downtown meters daily.
I am warm within this living portrait as I look at my momentarily enchanted children, full of joy for their interests and abilities. There is a monument to what they have overcome in my heart.
My thoughts turn to the glowing red star on the grand tree in the center of Cincinnati. It is the same red as the star adorning our tree at home, as well as the tree in my classroom.
The last conversation I had before I turned out the lights in my classroom on Friday comes to mind:
“Miss Ahyeesha, what are the earrings you have on?”
“They’re ruby red Christmas stars, Sam…Como se dice en Espanol? How do we say star in Spanish?”
“Estrella! Star!
“Muy bueno! Merry Christmas, Sam.”
“Gimme big hugs. See you after Christmas!”
My mind returns to the balcony of our shared contentment and I am keenly aware that this is what having hope feels like. This is happiness.