Hope

It is rare that I experience Hope.

It's a concept that has been beaten out of me.

I'm talking about Genuine Hope. Not the self-delusional kind we all depend on to keep plowing through our tortuous lives. Not the fake shit peddled by every fool we meet.

I'm talking about the kind of hope that stirs your soul. That makes you feel good against all odds.

May is magic. May is a month that makes me feel good. I don't know how else to describe the sensation so I call it hope. I think it is hope.

The sun shines brightly. Beautifully. The sky is blue. Birds sing. Temperature in the 60's. 70's. Sometimes 80's.

Buds are bursting on the trees. Buds bursting is the crux of the hope thing. I look at trees as I drive down the road and I feel so good. At that point we are all right on the cusp of natural beauty. When those buds pop and trees come alive you feel like a human being. Buds equal hope.

Beauty will do that to you. It is a wonder. There is so much gray in our lives that being color blind is not a drawback. May blasts right through that. You cannot ignore the color. You cannot fail to be moved by it. Especially in New England where we have just endured 5 solid months of odious, colorless, winter weather.

There is the smell of Spring. The sounds of Spring. The feel of Spring. The taste of Spring. The SIGHT of Spring.

Baby, all your senses are engaged. You   are   alive.

I experience Hope in May. Not in any specific way. I am not feeling hopeful that my life will end well or that I will successfully cultivate feelings of pride and self-confidence or that I will get to retire to a few months of peace.

It is a generic hope, but it is genuine.

That's better than nothing, baby.