I hate arguing. I endeavor to avoid debate at all costs unless it’s a subject I feel requires interjection– lest I become a citizen who permanently occupies the fringes in silent disagreement. Like when I see people trashing an entire religion and perpetuating the myth that its faithful breeds nothing but murder and chaos. Sure we all make generalizations, but thoughts like these are neither fair nor accurate.

But as I started to say, I am not keen to dive into such a contentious subject either here or anywhere else. At least not right now.

Last night the mistral winds of the south cancelled local fireworks marking the 14th of July fête nationale here in France. In lieu of wandering outdoors, my friends and I opted to enjoy the tremendous display put on at the Champ du Mars in the comfort of our living room. As I watched the streaking lights arc away from the Eiffel Tower while in sync with a music box version of Le Marseillaise, my brain clicked back to thoughts I had pondered on Sunday night. The final of EURO 2016 was taking place as France lost to Portugal in overtime. These were two big ticket events occurring within a week of each other in France, and I wondered if both would take place without any discernible menace to the public.

As we watched the final song close down the Bastille Day festivities in Paris, the credits rolled on the television and we revelers in the south decided to call it a night. Tired after a day of exploration and preparing un super bon repas, we crawled into bed fed, watered, and happy. Just before placing my phone on Do Not Disturb mode I checked my Twitter feed and noticed a slow but steadily trending subject:

“Apparemment y a eu un attentat à Nice…C’est censé s’arrêter quand ce merdier?”

“Attentat à Nice!? Est-ce ce vrai? Qui a des infos?!

“Qu’est-ce qui se passe à Nice?”

“BREAKING: Truck ‘seems to have killed dozens of people’ in Nice”

Something was going on some 150 miles from where I lay, but it was still too early to understand the scale. I went to bed and waited to see what the coming hours would bring. And then we all woke up this morning and started to watch the CSI footage reels on a steady loop.

No one feels much like celebrating as we enter a weekend that starts three days of mourning. My run along the beach this morning was sunny, quiet and windy. We’re lucky enough to be reposing in a summer destination town that is packed with tourists by noon but remains incredibly peaceful in the early hours. Tracing my route along the beach, I reflected a bit on the fresh reactions that flowed following the attack in Nice. I also thought about how the attack didn’t come as a surprise to me at all.

This seems to be the new normal, no matter how much you declare that guns are or are not the problem, or whether Muslims/your demographic du jour are or are not the root of all problems. And then my brain flashes to the bigger crises that were taking up my headspace just before midnight on the 14 juillet. Folks probably aren’t as au courant, but the fledgling country of South Sudan is not exactly having a good time celebrating its 5th birthday. There’s a fair amount of violence taking place outside l’Occident every day, and accordingly it’s not plastered across the news here in the south of France. But it’s still important.

It’s hard being an adult. When I say this I mean that when you’re little, such a massacre gets delicately placed into a box by adults in order to help you grasp the nuances of society. If elders didn’t put things in such simplified terms, I’m certain that we’d grow up with an elevated feeling of hopelessness about the world around us. As a kid you process each event and believe that things will carry on more or less as before once the affected area gets a chance to heal. When you’re older, it’s hard to reassure yourself in the same manner after being exposed to years of illogically moving parts that somehow manage to make our world turn. This is not the last attack that we’re going to experience. Everybody knows this, even if we don’t like to think about it (or god forbid say this to our children).

As for me, I can only spend so much time dwelling on the images that have cluttered the French broadcast and my social media feeds this morning. That’s why les petits bonheurs like a morning run or a meal shared in good company become so important to survival. You realize that it’s the little things that pass each day— the experiences that pass largely unhighlighted— that are the moments that ultimately carry the most weight.

Evil is everywhere but I truly believe that love and basic human decency is even more everywhere. I came back to France this week for a bit of vacation and also to spend time with as many old friends as possible. Now at the end of my visit, what I got as it turned out was even more than I could have anticipated. I have made new friends that feel like family, and even while tripping over my rusty French I have felt a peace that has seemed largely elusive as of late. These are little moments discovered that help to keep horrific and breathtaking events from knocking a person over completely and definitively.

The mistral is now blowing to over 40 miles per hour and it feels downright mean as we listen to the world get beaten silly with its whistling gusts. For those of us indoors, we carry on with what we’re doing because we feel protected. Not only thanks to the shelter offered by the four walls of this apartment, but also because we trust in the human network here that loves and surrounds us.

It’s still a beautiful day here in the south of France, no matter how hard wind continues to blow. It’s important to face adversity with measured determination while not letting darkness cloud over the fundamental goodness that still runs rampant throughout the world. Call me a foolish optimist who, as an adult, still wants to oversimplify things– but to me this is a labor that must continue. In France yesterday we celebrated Bastille Day, a moment that pays tribute to a solid foundation upon which life here has been based. Here and elsewhere, our trajectory will not be redirected by the actions of a hateful minority. They’ll be shaped instead by the actions of the many. J’en suis sûr.

Now it’s time for a glass of wine.