Hope is the creep lurking in corners pretending to be a gift, a curse hiding in blessing’s clothes.It’s the eternal spring that gives Mr. Wrong his 100th chance. Hope is the 3rd year intern who won’t call it, the ‘compassionate care’ trial that tortures the dying. Hope is the healthy “Subscribe and Save” snack subscription….
The space in between inaction and action, the breaks between the actions once begun. I stare. The dreaded “To Do list”. The numbers to be called, emails to be answered. The mundane minutia that bookends my every day. Insidious in its omnipresence, my notes guilting me for inadequate effort. I yearn for ‘elseness’. Something else….