I needed a search party. I needed dogs to sniff it out. I needed helicopters circling above. I needed to find it. And the more I searched the more I became frantic. Where did I last see it? Where did it go? Would I ever find it again? Maybe it was stolen from me or maybe it was just misplaced. All I knew was that it was gone and I needed it. Now.
Today is March 20. The very next day after the day that my world stood still. Proof that life goes on. By the day and the week and the year. March 20 or my first day on a quest for hope.
Hope is one of those things you can’t measure. It is not quantifiable. It is the one thing that is of great value even when it is but a single thread. It is not a guarantee in anything. It is a belief. It is a maybe, a what if, a possibility. But once it is lost, it is near impossible to find.
Hope. It’s not one of those things you find hiding under the bed. No, it disintegrates or evaporates and vanishes. And then, just when you think its lost, it appears unexpectedly. It hides itself in the most mysterious places. It is that second glace. It is the nod from a stranger. It is the whisper in your head that says get out of bed. It is that tingling in your legs that tells you to keep walking, just when you were ready to sit down. It can be a smile, a hand to hold, and sometimes, it hides in the mirror and waits for the most needed time to stare back at you.
Hope and I, we are no strangers. For the better part of 6 years, it was my lifeline. The single thing that kept me going, and on some days, it was fleeting and left me silent and alone in sweatpants refusing to get out of bed. But no matter how many times I was forced to call in a rescue party, it always found its way back to me. And though I can’t tell you where to find it, I can tell you that no matter how long it has been lost, it can be found.
❤️