Ants, worms and beetles.
Preparing for the day to come.
Below the surface, they make way for all the new life.
Possibility in all its glory.
Below the top soil and way down beneath the frozen earth.
They lay eggs in small pockets of larva,
They build cocoons.
They wriggle in a furry of hope.
Even the dormant bulbs of winter
become tiny nuggets of goodness,
nestled below for no one to see but me.
Week 2. Hope
The other day I had lunch with one of my best friends. Sometimes we complain to each other about how someone rubs us the wrong way, my mother used to call that “venting” but I’ve come to believe that this is one of the major bonuses in having a good friend you can trust. Anyway, my friend was telling me about a conversation she had days before. She had a conversation with a mom who works full time. That particular conversation made her feel like her choices, as a stay at home mom were somehow diminished in comparison . Now, my friend juggles so many things that no one really knows about but those she’s close to. This made me think of the bulbs underground. Not many people know all the work we do underground. We take two steps forward and one step back and still it seems like were in the same place sometimes. But all the work we do is below where no one sees. Spring is but a season away. Those that really truly know us know us, they know how hard we struggle and really that’s all that matters. Why is it that we seem to loose sight of that idea so often, especially in the winter, when it’s cold out and so many things are underground. But hope is alive in all the hard work we do deep inside. Maybe it’s hope for a new life. Maybe hope for a new love. Maybe hope to finally heal. It doesn’t matter what kind of hope it is as long as we keep working on it, like the busy ants below.