Seven Years Ago

I am not a smart man, particularly, but one day, at long last, I stumbled from the woods of my own, and my family's, and my country's past, holding in my hands these truths: that love grows from the rich loam of forgiveness; that mongrels make good dogs; that the evidence of God exists in the roundness of things. This much at least I've figured out. I know this much is true.