Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts
By Alyce Wilson
There's an appropriate pun inherent in the expression, "Hope springs eternal."
As March or April swings around, little things can make me deliriously happy. One day, the temperature may climb above 40 degrees, which compared to the frigid temperatures of winter, seems absolutely balmy.
Another day, the sky is clear and bright, fluffy white clouds floating above. The next moment, you realize bird song is richer as more bird voices join each day.
And then, if you're a news junkie like I am, you learn that a young teenager, Elizabeth Smart, abducted from her home in Utah nine months ago, was found, incredibly, alive and in good condition.
And miracle of miracles, to hear about the continually progressing recovery of my sister's dog, Emma, who escaped with remarkably few injuries after being struck by a truck. Little Emma, sweet, gentle golden doggie, is home recuperating. Despite sleeping a lot and limping on occasion, she's doing extremely well.
With so much miraculous rebirth going on all around, annoyances like a persistent cold don't mean as much. How desperately we need hopeful signs like these in a world which has become veiled with uncertainty and fear, as a quarter of a million U.S. troops gather at the borders of Iraq, and the world holds its breath.
I remember once, as a child, wondering aloud why bad things happen and being told, by one of my wise parents — who at the time were also three times taller than they are now — that if bad things never happened, we wouldn't appreciate the good. What a silly thing to say, I remember thinking, of course I would. How could I not appreciate it if I were happy all the time?
Perhaps. But undoubtedly, when we're locked into survival mode, into a sort of tunnel vision, for joy and hope to spring out of nowhere seems nothing short of miraculous.
Springtime reminds me why I've vowed not to move to a year-round temperate climate. While winter can be rough, I don't know if people who live in a perpetually mild climate can appreciate it as much. And especially as the huge mounds of snow that accumulated during this year's blizzard grow softer and eventually give way into moist earth, ready to rebound, I'm reminded of how much pleasure we get from seeing the seasons change.
And now, the roofers have come out to resume work, reshaping and rebuilding. The snowman that some local children made, which lost its head and hat nearly two weeks ago, has now completely collapsed, leaving only a soaked old sweater.
And as I take my morning walk with my dog, Una, I'm peeling off layers as I go: first my gloves, then hat, then scarf. Coat unzipped, jacket unbuttoned, bed-head floating free. The balmy breeze, like a thousand kisses, like a massage, reminds me that in the midst of darkness there is light, in the midst of fear there is comfort.
Hope springs eternal. Blessed be.
Moral:
Keep
the faith.
Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson
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