In the shadows, she hid from me.
For weeks we had been playing hide-n-go seek, and I was losing. She had found a place so obscure, so hidden, I wondered if she had joined the witness protection program and changed her name to Althea. Sometimes I even imagined her on bent knees, hiding from me in a potato patch on a farm in the northwest, maybe Idaho.
Wherever she was, I certainly couldn’t see her in rainbowless skies. Nor could I hear her above the roar of gunfire or over the dissenting voices of political wackadoos.
Sadder even, I couldn’t find her at work in my every day, and figured she too had grown tired of the commute.
I wondered what had become of her, wondered if she was fluffing pillows, rearranging magazines in someone’s else’s casa.
Then yesterday I saw her from the corner of my eye, slip back into the room. I watched her draw her hand across a beloved’s face and laugh as she picked lint from his collar; I spotted her later standing in my mom’s kitchen stirring a pot of sugared figs.
My heart stirred, my eyes welled with tears.
Hope had made her way out of the shadows and was finally back.
(If you’re looking for more thoughts on integrity, compassion and grace, check out my book, Tao Flashes, at Amazon.)