It’s funny that we still say “in broad daylight,” as if any of it should be surprising anymore. 

It took only seven minutes to complete the daylight heist of the Louvre in Paris. At 9:30am on October 19th, the brazen thieves walked away with priceless jewels of France. 

It was Hemingway who wrote about his years in Paris, “You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind…” And still, we didn’t expect it. I suppose we never do. 

Even in the autumn, or the dark mornings before the time change…even after reading day after day of what is done in broad daylight, I’m still surprised. And doesn’t it have to be, surprising, for us to continue this human experience. Amid all the name calling and crimes committed, shouldn’t we still be surprised, shocked at the behaviors all around us. We can’t let this become normal. We simply can’t wash it away as the new light.

For us to maintain any sort of humanity, our most priceless of jewels, we have to be surprised. Surprised enough to call it out. Fight against it. Be better. 

And it was Hemingway, too, who told us, “there would always be the spring.” I still believe. The unshuttered light comes through my morning window.