If you google “define despair,” you’ll find the following:
Despair: 1. n– the complete loss or absence of hope; 2. v — lose or be without hope.
Ergo, “hope” could be defined as the absence of despair, wouldn’t you agree? They are yin or yang, positive or negative, Cubs or White Sox — in other words, polar opposites.
The other day we finally got a little dose of hope. Blue skies, warm sunshine and the above freezing temperatures gave us this:
I know, I know — for us in the Midwest, the sight of brownish grass with a hint of green was almost too much. But when you looked closer, there was an even clearer wonder to behold:
Along the edge of the flowerbed, the tulips were starting to peek through. These are those tulips — the ones we got for free and shoved into the ground, not knowing if they were ever going to come up or be eaten by foraging chipmunks and squirrels. I almost wept with sheer joy.
That was Tuesday.
Yesterday we awoke to this:
The baby tulips are covered again, as is the almost green grass. In one day we swung on the pendulum that is Spring — from warm, living hope to cold, icy despair.
It’ll melt. It has to melt. Right?
If you had to choose a photo to represent hope and despair, what would you choose? My second choice would be a lovely, untouched deep-dish pizza (hope) and an empty, grease-stained pizza box (clearly despair.)