“Dig it up, dust off the tarnish and stick that sucker to the dashboard.”
I said this to an old friend yesterday in reference to hope. We were talking about the days when that’s all we have left and this little gem floated to the surface. The phrase itself has so much going on and so many cross references that it’s hard to tell what exactly I was going for here. But you can definitely tell that I’m all spun around attempting to find my bearings.
And that pretty much sums it up right now. I have no intention of making this another post full of whining and poor pitiful me. Lord knows I’ve done that enough both in writing and in an ongoing litany in my head to last us all a lifetime. This post is really about getting back to the hope that I try to distill from every day. Regardless of whether that day contains my daughter having a seizure, or having to return a car that we love, or my son struggling mightily learning to read. Or whether that day is absolutely nothing special. Because those are far more plentiful than the others.
It’s those daily grind days that really test my ability to dust anything off, let alone see through tarnish. The days when I’m treading water endlessly, trying to fix my sights on the endless horizon. The days when I’m bone tired. The days when I’m bored out of my mind and pushed to my limits of tolerance and patience.
Today was one of those days. I just woke up surly. Knowing I had a long day stretched before me with no real plans and two bouncing children. So we went to a sweet movie and then on to grocery shopping so I could actually cook this evening.
Making soup brought a grounding feeling and entertaining the notion that tomorrow may be the day when I get the call about the job brought a sense of uplifted relief. Tomorrow is playdate and camp. Perhaps sun will outweigh the rain tomorrow.
Tomorrow is the opportunity to affix hope, yet again, to my own dashboard, to hula its way into existence.
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