Not A

Could it be?

Oh, I hope I’m not wrong, that I am not seeing a mirage.

But I think not.

I suddenly see quiet flakes of hope emerge tucked gently into the still steadily falling snow.

Perhaps they are visible because of an email I received late last night.

The digital message brought me an unexpected visit with two beloved friends. There was a time we three shared so many Madonna Heights adventures, mostly with joy, but still sprinkled with unexpected sorrows.

We were named “The Ladies,” but perhaps “Sisters” would have been more apropos.

Barbara, despite being the minuscule more senior, was ever the most beautiful.

Sister Thomas, a constant spiritual oasis in times of need, was always present, wise and available in crisis, as well as a beloved companion who shared laughter and joy.

Last night my two forever friends stood strong reaching across many miles via the miracle of internet. Their gift of love traveled across the country wrapping me in a virtual embrace.

Both have survived Covid, winter and trials I cannot imagine.

Still their flakes of hope seemed to sprinkle my world with the light of belief.

I began to realize that despite the clouds of fear; accompanied with a troubled political year of ferocious anger; the heavy cloak of national depression might finally be fading into the fog of yesterday.

The long night of darkness may ebb more slowly than it arrived; but that matters not because hope is stronger.

Belief is resilient; it cannot be extinguished by shackles of despair.

I have no doubt that Spring is close, or

That nightingales will sing again and

Hardy Forsythia shrubs will bloom with determination.

:Yesterday’s world may be gone, but tomorrow could be better.

I don’t believe I see a mirage.