I am sitting under a tree watching my daughter crawl on the grass in front of me. I have just learned that 2024 will likely be deemed the hottest year on record, and I am thinking about her future – mostly, how I am increasingly uncertain what it will look like, and who she will need to be.
What I do know is that I want to help her feel rooted, to know who her neighbour is, to love and be loved, even when the world says there are more important things to aspire to. I want this for myself, too. What I also know is this: that life is so absurdly unlikely; and it is a gift, and these fragmenting, ...
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