I don’t know about you, but for those of us in the Northeast, it’s been a long winter already. Switching from the month of February to March is a bright moment of hope for me. Now, so far, both March days have brought snow, but it’s the idea of the thing. It’s the sense that it will end, that warm weather will once again embrace us. It’s about that hope.
Books that I like tend to have a sense of hope. They don’t always have to end on a perfectly sunny thought, but there needs to at least be hope – hope that things are finally heading in the right direction, hope that people are learning from their mistakes, hope that they can manage and maybe even triumph.
I’ve talked about endings before in this blog, but I come back to it, because endings of books are critical to me. They should echo how I want to feel about life. I want to be hopeful. Even if I’m not completely thrilled about life at the moment, I want to at least have a sense that it’s getting better. And when I’m hopeful, I’m happy. I like living a happy life, and I like happy endings – even if they are just like the beginning of March – still snowy, yet full of promise.