Almost exactly three years ago, as we were all stunned and in mourning over Bush's "re-election", my mother lay dying in a hospital bed in my old bedroom at home. We had decided not to tell Mum the outcome of the election, knowing that she would only be more worried about our futures and our country's future. Mum had been alarmed and frightened during Bush's first term, and was concerned enough (although extremely proud) about our involvement in anti-administration politics, that we didn't want to add to her worries. At this point, Mum's only contacts with the outside world were our family, good neighbors, a few visitors, and the windows of my small childhood bedroom.
One window faced west, and we had decorated it with various stained-glass pieces to catch the afternoon sunlight. One late afternoon in the week before Thanksgiving, after a cold, blustery rain, the sun finally broke through shortly before sunset. Suddenly Mum's window was gloriously lit, with the setting sun gilding every raindrop still stuck on the window's screen and glowing through the stained glass. I didn't think that I had time to get my camera, so Mum and I just watched, oohing and ahhing, until the sun finally set and the spectacular show was over. Afterward, we commiserated over my not having my camera handy, but we were both glad that we were able to share the beauty.
Luckily, Mother Nature apparently was pleased enough with her work to show it again the next evening, when I did have my camera handy. The resulting pictures (shown here both with and without flash) serve as a reminder to me that no matter how horrific circumstances are, brief moments of beauty can fill the heart, most especially when shared with a loved one.