I rolled up to the lacrosse game, right as the halftime buzzer went off. I scanned the bleachers, saw my crew, & immediately noticed the purple roses in each woman’s hand, all throughout the stands. It was Mother’s Day. My heart twinged a little - old hopes stir for what isn’t. Gritty hope is an enigma - not bound by any sort of guarantee or outcome, but found instead in broken expectations, reimagined timelines, unspoken dreams & fiery fight for what could be. Hope is hard & heavy & hearts grow weary, but as long as there’s hope, we can’t lose our fight. I squared my shoulders and walked in the stands to watch my @taraclarerosemorr tear it up on the field, only to have my arm caught by her mama... holding two purple roses in her hand. “Mei! This one’s for you. You weren’t here when the team handed them out, but Tara made sure that I had one for you too.. wanted to make sure I gave it to you. Happy Mother’s Day, Mei”. Sometimes Hope looks like a long-stemmed purple rose, with its petals a little wilted from the rain — a friend who is willing & ready to shoulder the hard & the heavy with you. Sometimes Hope looks like a package that appears in the mail from your @pitterpatterart, with a decoupaged card & an ornament to add to your collection of hearts — the unspoken reminder that we do not hope alone. I brought my rose home & added it to the table’s bouquet.. propped up my card & smiled. The thing about hope is there’s always room for more - more plans to reimagine, more dreamfires to reignite... for ourselves, for our people, for our world. And when we carry another’s hope - protect their flickering dreams - we can light the spark that breathes new life.. ...until that Hope again becomes a blaze 🔥.