Hopeful

Click, click, click.  I heard the clicking of her paws against the floor as I went into the kitchen to fix lunch for me and the littles.  Miss Sophie followed at a close pace.  It’s become so much a part of my everyday that I hardly even notice she does it.  I account for her in my feet’s personal space almost without thinking.  She’s there.  She hangs out.  It’s what she does, and she’s rather good at it.  Nothing gets made in that kitchen that she’s not in the know about.  Ah, the recipes (good and bad) she could share.

Today Cooter and our Princess were sitting at the counter eagerly awaiting their food.  After I got them settled, I started fixing my plate of leftovers to be heated up and feasted upon.  (Leftovers are pretty much my favorite meal, y’all.)

“Mama!  Look at Sophie!” Princess was loud and excited.

Cooter looked over and started laughing.  “She’s watching your every move, Mama.”

I looked down at her.  Nothing new there.

“Mama, she looks–” Princess paused for a second–“hopeful.”

“Yes, hopeful!” her brother echoed.

I looked down.

I’ve seen a lot of expressions on our precious pooch, but I’ve never used hopeful to describe them.  And yet–

spot on.

She DID look hopeful.

Hope?  FILLED with hope?

I’ll take some of that please.

This evening in the car as we were running from one thing to the next, I asked my crew about being hopeful and what that looked like.

My very literal children made faces that looked more pained than anything.

“No, no, no–I mean, what does it feel like?  To be hopeful?”

Cooter answered without pausing.

“A wave.”

Wow.  Really?

“Yes, yes, a wave!” Princess said.

“You know, ’cause you’re hoping, ‘yes, it’s going to happen’ then ‘no, it probably won’t’ and then ‘yes, it’s going to happen’…..” Cooter explained.

“Mama, poor Sophie was probably thinking ‘she’s going to give me some food’ and then ‘oops, no I guess not’ and then ‘hey, I think she’s going to…..'” Princess did her best imitation of our pup.

And that was when both my children got distracted and started laughing all over again.

(For the record, Miss Sophie never had a chance.  The only “people” food she gets is what hits the ground that she can grab before I do.)

A wave.  I believe it.

And I love that image.  With all that is going wrong in our world right now, I could use a good soak in some hope.  Dip my toes in first, testing it out, and then just plop right down and let it wash all over me.

Hope.

A balm for the soul.

Here’s wishing you all a “puppy wishing for some ‘real’ food kind of hope,” complete with that precious expression.  May wave after wave of hope crash all over you until you are laughing and running towards it to ride the next one all the way back to peace and light.

Love to all.