Somewhere today, in the here and now, in the world as it is, a soldier sees he's outgunned, but stands firm to keep the peace. Somewhere today, in this world, a young protestor awaits the brutality of her government, but has the courage to march on. Somewhere today, a mother facing punishing poverty still takes the time to teach her child, scrapes together what few coins she has to send that child to school - because she believes that a cruel world still has a place for that child's dreams.

Let us live by their example. We can acknowledge that oppression will always be with us, and still strive for justice. We can admit the intractability of depravation, and still strive for dignity. Clear-eyed, we can understand that there will be war, and still strive for peace. We can do that - for that is the story of human progress; that's the hope of all the world; and at this moment of challenge, that must be our work here on Earth.

- President Barack Obama, accepting the Nobel Peace Prize, 12/10/09

The link above takes you to the full text of his speech today. It may take you a bit to get through it, but I would encourage you to do so. My understanding is it did not go over well with the crowd in Oslo, and I can see why. It is not fluffy. Instead, it is pragmatic, makes no apologies, and refuses to see the world with rose-colored glasses.

This administration has not yet had its year anniversary. For the most part, I feel as if the past year has been about unfulfilled potential. Then again, I do not envy this man or his administration the tasks set before them, daunting no matter what party you ascribe to, circumstances that fall not on the shoulders of any one particular administration or political stripe but years and years of bad or at least inattentive governance. This, though. This has some meat. I don't know how it felt, or sounded, delivered from the man himself. But I'm glad to read it, and I think it's important, and I think it will be one of those speechs for which he is remembered when history has her way and all the rest is dust.

The other day, walking into preschool, the bean noticed a classmate and his dad behind us, and turned around to prance back and grab said classmate's hand, both of them half-skipping to the door. Watching the two of them, both boys, I sighed and said to the other parent, "Man, I wonder how long this lasts."

"Not long enough," he replied.

I keep thinking about that. Tonight, picking him up from preschool, one of his buddies, also a boy, asked him for a hug before he left. "Kisses, too!" Aidan exclaimed and they gave each other a resounding smack on the mouth. It was adorable, and bittersweet, at least for the one watching.

I figure he has one, maybe two more years before societal conventions worm their way into his still-forming psyche. It makes me sad, because it was beautiful to watch, a simple and heartfelt expression of affection for a friend that will, in a handful of years, garner him a slur if he actually deigns to continue the behavior.

Sometimes I wish I could stop time, just to hold onto these moments, and the sweet little boy who is growing up before my eyes.