For Hope

For the first time in a long time, I have Hope.  It is a significant change for me, and it warrants a capital letter.

Heartleaf
A little sign of good things to come, I feel it

Last week, I decided to start jogging again.  Not much, just 20 minutes on, and off, alternative walking with jogging.  Something inside compelled me to pick up this old hobby and at the end of the run, I felt it: Hope.

It’s not like I saw anything new, but rather I felt new things inside because of what I was seeing outside.  Spring is upon us, and I know that has something to do with my altered state of mind.  There is a beautiful tree-lined main street just beyond my house, and that’s where I started to notice my spirit wasn’t dragging as much.  Sometimes I get so down, down, down, I can barely pick up my heavy feet.  But not on that jog.  I lifted my chin and looked up at the protective trees surrounding me.  I felt comfort.  Comfort is big for me, I’m realizing.

A therapist told me shortly after Wyatt died, that I would need to create the cozy in my life.  That the world did not know how to address grief, and I would need to surround myself with comforting things at home and at the workplace.  A substantial piece of advice, don’t you think?  It is so true…how could the world know anything about us grieving mothers?  This big engine of society just keeps going and going, and I just keep being me, missing and loving my sweet boy.

But, the Hope is still here.  Part of the joyful springing that is going on around me, are these darting and diving hummingbirds.  In my front yard, they fight and clamor for their sweet drink.  It is the cutest thing!  I imagine placing a twiggy swing next to their feeder…I envision seeing them all lined up, shoulder to shoulder.  Oh, the thought!

Hummingbirds have a symbolic meaning for me.  The week Wyatt passed away, for the first time, a hummingbird swung around and flitted near my shoulders.  I was so impressed.  I’d lived here for 3 years, 3 seasons, with many opportunities for this visit…but, ‘he’ waited until then.  I couldn’t stop myself from calling him, Wyatt.  A Wyatt-Bird.  Is that your sweet soul looking over me?  I sure Hope so, baby boy.

 

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