Hope is such a small word, yet it carries immense weight. It can be a whisper or a lifeline, a fleeting wish or the very thing that keeps someone going.
When I was younger, hope meant simple things—wishing for a Barbie doll, dreaming of growing taller, and praying my hair wouldn’t always resemble a bird’s nest.
As a teenager, hope changed. I hoped people would believe me. I hoped I could do just one thing right. I hoped for bravery, for freedom—and, yes, still for a few more inches of height.
When my husband was dying of cancer, his hopes became urgent. He hoped for a breakthrough treatment, for the pain to ease, for one more year, month, week, day. He hoped, most of all, to see his eldest son graduate high school. He never did.
Hope is everywhere.
A mother in a war-torn country hopes her child will be born safely and that she will have enough nourishment to feed her baby. A hungry soul, somewhere in the world, hopes for just one meal—hot or cold, anything to ease the ache.
My eldest son, fresh out of university with two degrees, hoped for a job. Some hope simply to be seen—to be accepted as they are, without judgment for their skin color, their abilities, their beliefs, their love, their language, their culture. They don’t hope to be treated better, just equally.
Hope isn’t just about the future; sometimes, it lingers in the past. Is that still hope, or is it something else—wishes, regrets?
I once hoped to go to university, but my mind never seemed to settle enough to focus. Still, I went on to earn several college diplomas. I hoped for a big family, to live in the countryside in a sprawling farmhouse filled with dogs. But when my third child was just a year old, my husband was diagnosed with cancer. Life didn’t stop, and neither did his fight.
We hope those in power will serve the people, not just their own interests. We hope for peace, for an end to hunger and war. We hope that every child grows up feeling safe and loved. We hope for a world without abuse, trauma, and grief.
Hope is a powerful thing. It pushes us to be better, to live with kindness, to give, and to extend our hands. It reminds us to be grateful—because while we may take so much for granted, countless people are hoping for even a small part of the life we lead.
My hope? That one day, the world will not be governed by greed, ownership, or control—but by love, community, and acceptance.
And, if I’m being honest, I still wouldn’t mind growing a little taller.
Tanya.
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