Hope Lives Next Door

Hope is never far away. She’s lurking around corners, hiding under bedsheets, tucked away in closets. We just missed her, she just left. But that’s okay, because we know she’s there. Do you know Hope? When was the last time you saw her?

It’s easy to lose track of her. Sometimes a man in a fancy suit is blocking her from our sight. Sometimes she’s stuck at the bottom of a stack of papers. The internet tells us over and over “She’s not around any longer. Instead watch this or this or this and feel mad, sad, not so glad”.

But I’m here to remind you Hope lives next door. She works in your office and takes the same bus home. She’s behind the counter at a cafe. She’s there, you just have to look for her.

In my world, Hope shows through music. She appears in dusty venues, in the excited eyes of a musician's first show, in the screams from a singer's throat. She tastes like cheap beer after a long night's work and smells like the best cigarette you’ve ever had. I encounter Hope in the audience, sweaty and surfing the crowd. I see her in the community I’ve built, and the community that built me. In these moments, I feel her all around me.

You might be wondering, How do I find Hope? Must I conjure her up myself? Do I need to join a gym or a cooking class to be with her? Is she only there in moments with loved ones? How do we keep hold of her, in such dire times, when the suits and screens and stacks of paper block her from us? Well, we just need to meet Hope where she lives.

Hope lives in Community. She thrives there. She was born there, for crying out loud. When panic sets in, she gives us the strength to lift our heads, meet eyes, and hold hands. She sits with us at family dinners and bumps into you at the corner store. She’s taking notes at volunteer meetings and handing out pamphlets on the corner. She’s in the ink of your bookclub’s latest read, in the dirt of your neighborhood garden. She offers protection during a protest, an attic to hide in, a video to share so people know you were taken from your home. She’s there in the best of times and the absolute worst of times.

Hope wants you to find her. She’s present but elusive. She can slip away when you stop looking at her. You need to search for her, hold her, tell her she’s important. It sounds like hard work, and that’s because it is. You have to try, it's part of the deal. The good news is, she’s there. In your neighbors and colleagues and classmates and co-commuters, at the cafe and bakery, at church and in the crowd of a punk show. She is in the mirror, staring back at you. I promise you, dear reader, it’s worth the effort. She’s so close, only just next door. Take a moment and look around. Can you feel her? Let her in