Let me be frank. I'm a pessimist. I am neither proud of it, nor I endorse pessimism as anything good. It's just a fact. A changeable fact, but there you have it.
I am married to a man who is not an optimist. Wouldn't it be great if he were? He'd bring me balance. Or so that's the theory. But he is not an optimist.
Neither is he a pessimist.
What he is is a man of remarkable hope.
You wouldn't notice it by what he says (He doesn't talk much. Except to me. Or when you get him talking about history and guns. Or prisons.) but if you were to observe him over time, you couldn't help but see it by how he lives.
To be sure (and he would admit to it) there are things that could have been, should have been different over the years. His perspective is often too broad for the work of fine-tuning that family life frequently requires.
But regardless of the widely believed saying, hindsight is NOT 20/20. It is only conjecture. So I try not to belabor the point.
And I try not to let the what ifs defile the reality...
His hope is what has kept him, and ultimately us, together.
He has chosen to lose a lot of battles so that the war would eventually be won by the right things. That takes a humble, courageous kind of hope, y'all.
I reap good things in places where I did not sow because he is happy to share.