It won’t end war or vanquish viruses, but spring sunshine gives me hope

I think about the sun the way Homer Simpson thinks about his hair. I get up every morning, and though I know it won’t be there, I still check. There is always hope. Except, something peculiar happened last weekend. The sun came out. And then again, day after day, as if it just cracked the concept. And with it, everything and nothing had changed.