Twice shy

Does it sound like a really bizarre thing to say that this story and this story are very linked in my head?

Consider this excerpt:

Although no formal cease-fire was signed at the summit, it was widely seen as a step toward talks on a U.S.-backed "road map" for a Palestinian state alongside Israel.
. . .
Palestinians and Israelis at home voiced doubts that the truce would lead to an immediate end to hostilities.

"I don't think anyone in Israel thinks it will be different tomorrow and there will be quiet," said 32-year-old Israeli graduate student Yoav Kanyas. "However, there is some sort of optimism for peace, which was not there until now."

And this one:

Last April, after celebrating his second year sober, he relapsed again, disappearing for two weeks. His sponsor, who had become a close friend of Nick's, assured me: "Nick won't stay out long. He's not having any fun." Of course I hoped that he was right, but I was no less worried than I was other times he had disappeared -- worried that he could overdose or otherwise cause irreparable damage.

But he didn't. He returned and withdrew on his own, helped by his sponsor and other friends. He was ashamed -- mortified -- that he slipped. He redoubled his efforts. Ten months later, of course, I am relieved (once again) and hopeful (once again). Nick is working and writing a children's book and articles and movie reviews for an online magazine. He is biking and swimming. He seems emphatically committed to his sobriety, but I have learned to check my optimism.

I do hope this time it will be different for Israel and Palestine. But I've learned to check my optimism. Sigh.