Jovi, my three-year old daughter, and S.B., my wife, are sitting on the front steps talking about daycare. "School" as we like to call it. "Tomorrow, if you have to go potty at school, be brave," says S.B. "Tell Miss Tracy you have to use the bathroom and she'll help you." "But I don't want to, Mom." "Why don't you like going to the bathroom at school?" "Because I don't want to." "But you don't want to pee your pants, Jovi." "Mom, Miss Tracy has extra underwear and pants for me to wear." "I know, Jovi, but you're three now. You use the bathroom at home all the time." And just then, there is a man. Early 50s. Ruddy complexion. Wearing a Tigers baseball cap. He rides by on his bicycle. Looks in their direction, but does not smile, nod, or even say hi. Just keeps pedaling his way down 2nd Avenue. Jovi looks at him. Looks at S.B. "Oh...that is an angel. Hmmm." "An angel?" S.B. asks. "Yep, I don't see angels much," Jovi says. You do not wonder at this. There's no reason to. She's a kid. She's in tune. If there are angels to be seen, a kid's gonna be the one to see them. And so you savor the moment at 3:06 pm. In your cubicle. At work. And it carries you through the day. Brings you home happy and alert and wanting nothing more than to hug your son, your daughter, your wife. And for all of you to have more time. Together. Because as you know--more than ever lately--time is running out. Summer is leaving. And it won't be long before you are struggling through the dark season. Trying to keep yourself and everyone else upbeat. Active. Believing that Spring and sunshine and flowers are always there. Just a breath away. Below the ice. The snow. Allof this unknown. And that no matter what, there are better days to be had if you are hopeful. Aim truly. And listen to the simplest things. Like a little girl. One that doesn't see angels much, but sees them more than I do. Best, ~ K.J.