On Joy I walked outside after a storm and stared down at the driveway, thinking, "I hope my joy can look like that". Not fleeting, the way the the raindrops roll down the hood of the car, but soaked in deep, settled comfortably into life's imperfections, the way the water travels down into the pores of the concrete. I hope my joy can permeate below the surface, even and steady, not easily wiped away or swept off. I hope it erases the dirt and the grime, so that tomorrow hope can also visit when little hands bring out the sidewalk chalk.