I look out my study window. The view overlooks our somewhat private backyard. I took today off simply to recharge. We have come through fours years of national party warring, a fall election cycle like no other, and a new year filled with political anxiety. Today, as I try to recharge, I see a tiny little American flag, staked at the border of our property and the neighbor's yard. It’s flapping furiously in the cold January wind. No one can see this flag except for me from this angle in our house and perhaps the inhabitants of the neighbor's house. (Of course I do not know these people because this is 2021 with all kinds of insulation between ourselves and neighbors. And, after all, we have only lived here three years. (I’m shaming myself with these words…)).

But truly, I wonder about this flag. I have several hypotheses.

1) The generous version. As my neighbor family sits at breakfast, they look out the window, see this little flag, and remember an ideal that rings true and hopeful for them and all neighbors alike.

2) The cynical version. This neighbor has seen our left-leaning political signs and, smugly, wants to assert their different (insert, correct) point of view.

3) The optimistic version. The flag, so small, so humble, flapping vulnerably, is a reminder of a possible love that we all share - a vision of democracy unable to be shaken even in cold, anxious January days.

4) The aesthetic version. The Christmas lights are down, the Northeast Ohio neighborhood is grey. Therefore the red, white, and blue (no matter how small) lifts us from the sludge and slush of winter.

5) The weary version. All week I drive past large red campaign signs that should have been put to rest months ago. Why do I have to sit in my home and, once again, have my nose rubbed in Americana propaganda.

6). The prayerful version. We are broken. We are in need of healing.

I think this last is the one I will cling to. At least this is the version that keeps me moving forward.