HOPE - by Edder

I wasn't planning to write about hope. Then I read Strength's “Take Your Light Into The Tunnel.” And somewhere between the tunnel, the darkness, and that little light she kept talking about, I found myself thinking about something I have probably carried for longer than I realized. Hope. Strength wrote, “Hope is a beautiful thing.” I agree. But I think we have made hope too beautiful. We put flowers around it. We put beautiful quotes under it. We tell people to hold on because tomorrow will be better. And sometimes we forget what hope actually looks like when nobody is watching. Hope isn't always waking up excited about tomorrow. Sometimes hope is waking up tired and still deciding to get out of bed. Sometimes it is sending that message again after being ignored. Applying again after rejection. Starting something you have no idea how to finish. Writing when you don't even know whether anyone cares enough to read. Sometimes it is sitting quietly with yourself and saying, “Let's see what happens.” I think I have lived a lot of my life that way. Not knowing exactly where I was going. Just moving. Trying things. Stopping. Starting again. Getting excited about something and then questioning myself halfway through it. There have been moments where I wanted certainty. A clear road. A sign that said, Yes, this is the right direction. I rarely got one. So I kept going with whatever little confidence I had. Maybe that was hope. I used to think hope meant believing that something good would definitely happen. Now I think it is simply believing that something good is still possible. There is a difference. One demands a guarantee. The other leaves room for uncertainty. And maybe that is why I agree with Strength when she says to “take your light into the tunnel.” Because waiting for the tunnel to end before you allow yourself to live is another way of losing time. You can be broke and still laugh. You can be confused and still dream. You can fail an attempt and still make another one. You can be far from where you imagined yourself at this age and still be proud that you haven't completely given up on yourself. I think young people especially forget this. We are always waiting for the next version of ourselves. After graduation. After the first job. After the money. After the big break. After we finally become the person we keep imagining in our heads. But what happens to the person standing here right now? Does he have to wait too? Maybe not. Maybe he deserves a little happiness too. A little rest. A little laughter. A little foolishness. A reason to look around and say, “I'm still here.” That might be one of the quietest forms of hope. Not pretending that everything is okay. Just refusing to believe that everything is finished. And I've started to appreciate that kind. Because life doesn't always give you evidence. Sometimes it gives you uncertainty. Sometimes it gives you silence. Sometimes you work hard and nothing seems to move. Sometimes you do everything you thought you were supposed to do and still end up asking yourself what next. Hope doesn't always answer that question. It simply keeps you willing to ask it tomorrow. Maybe that is why I agree with Strength. The tunnel will have its darkness. There will be days when your light feels embarrassingly small. But perhaps you don't need a floodlight. Maybe one small light is enough. Enough to see the next step. Then another. Then another. Until one day you look behind you and realize you have travelled farther than you thought. I don't know where my own road ends. I'm still figuring that part out. But I don't think I need to know. For now, I just want to keep something with me. Not certainty. Not success. Not a promise that everything will work out exactly as I imagined. Just hope. Because maybe the point isn't knowing that there is definitely something beautiful waiting at the end. Maybe the point is refusing to stop walking before you find out. And if Strength's words made me think about anything, it is this: Don't wait for the tunnel to become bright before you start living. Carry whatever light you have. Even if it is small. Especially if it is small. Sometimes, that is how you find your way home.

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