Salvation. The pure, unadulterated joy -- I weep; I shudder; I need to be held.

We are safe. We are finally, finally safe, cradled in the arms of a government that for 8 years has dumped us on Gramma's lawn, abandoning us for weeks on end in a place where iodine -- expired long before we were even born -- remedied everything from hangnails to the gaping, vicious, self-induced slashes down our wrists and across our throats.

In two months, anyway.

I have hope. For once, the news isn't slaughtering it.