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Witnessing transfer of hope among generations


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Maybe it’s just me, but lately it seems I’ve been surrounded by hope.

I can almost smell it in the air. And in case you didn’t know, hope smells like the peace that comes from a cobalt blue bottle of 100 percent pure lavender oil or the airy scent of pine trees as you walk through a snow-covered forest.

When I asked my 22-year-old daughter, Aly, what hope smelled like to her, she answered, “Home Depot” — clarifying through my confused laughter that she related the smell of hope to business. (She just graduated with a degree in public relations, which might explain her thought process.)

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