Some mornings I get up early, brew black coffee, and walk out to the end of the dock. The lake lies perfectly smooth, holding the whole sky like a mirror.

And every time I turn my own key in the lock of my own front door, I remember what my family taught me in the dead of night.

Peace is never freely given. You don’t stumble into it, and you certainly can’t buy it.

Peace is a fortress. And sometimes you have to be willing to stand in the dark, face the monsters at your door, and hold it with everything you have.

THE END.