Today hasn’t been a good day. In fact, it’s been something of a shitty day.

Sometime during elementary school I had a terrible day of, what it felt like from the perspective of an 8 year-old, epic proportions. I hadn’t yet read The Odyssey but I’d imagine that 8 year-old me would have felt as if only Odysseus would have understood how I felt that day. He would’ve looked into my eyes, shaken his head in understanding, and sigh in solidarity.

“I feel you, buddy,” he would’ve said.

Me and Odysseus against the world.

And while I don’t have any recollection of the problems I encountered that day, I do remember that when I came home, when I finally was able to rest, my mother surprised me with a card she gotten at some point throughout the day. To this day it is one of the sweetest and most touching things that anyone has ever done for me.

I bring this up because, years later, I try hard to remember that feeling of warmth and love when I have days wherein I feel like that small vessel beat and battered against the myriad waves, winds, and wings of fate. I try to remember that this, too, shall pass and that there are people who love me enough to give me hugs, get me a card, and do their best to make the ship a bit less fragile.