Spring will soon be here, and with it I sense a whiff of hope. Can you feel it?
The birds are chirping, and the sun is struggling to break through the clouds. Finally, I can hear children playing in the nearby playground, and going outside is no longer a fight against frozen winds and sheets of ice. Spring always seems to bring hope, even if there are no obvious or apparent reasons for this hope.
Have you felt it too? I’m not quite sure how to explain it, but a strange hope has been circulating through the air. Hope that things can get better. It is a strange hope because there is little reason for it. It is a circulating hope because it is moving around in my mind, carried by the pleasant wind of spring, and I am wondering if I should stop and catch it or let it float away.
Of course I need to hold on to it for all that I am worth. Reach out and grab it, never let it go no matter where the pain takes me. But sometimes fear is easier, safer, than hope.
I am sure the hope has something to do with my new plan in the works. In a strange sense, this most recent flare is bringing out a sense of new possibility because I am starting over again. I am building up again, and every time I build up, there is the chance that this will be the time that I build up and up and don’t fall again. In so many ways it is such a ridiculous notion, but that is why the hope is a strange one, not really natural.
For now, I am keeping this hope a bit silent. It is a quiet hope. A soft hope. A hope that feels a bit unreal and a bit unreasonable, but perhaps one day it will become true.