Ugly events happen in dark hours. Horrifying images assault my senses and threaten to overwhelm my mind. Disgust churns in my stomach, and I feel the blackness consuming me. Hope flees, depression rises, and I fear the future of humankind. Sleep is a hard-won escape.
Contrast rises with the sun, revealing a magical quality to early Sunday mornings. Bright red cardinals compete for fat sunflower seeds. Red-winged blackbirds, chickadees, goldfinches, and a downy woodpecker flit between the feeder and the evergreens. Squirrels chase each other through the yard, oblivious to the hawk floating in lazy circles in the crystal blue sky. It may not be Walden, but it is my slice of nature carved from a suburban landscape.
A gentle mist rises in the chill air as the sun promises hope. A deep breath, a hot cup of coffee, and a soft breeze eases worry and clears the mind. The early morning brims with promise, and my words begin to flow.
How do you find hope?
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer