Hope

A few weeks ago, some of the bloggers I follow through Facebook wrote a handful of posts about HOPE – what hope means to them. I believe it had something to do with the ending of the Olympics. I’m just a day late and a dollar short (or however that little saying goes). Of course, I was slacking on starting my blog – I pondered starting a blog for about three months before I actually did it. I was afraid I’d write a blog and nobody would read it. Between you and me, I’m actually still kind of scared that nobody’s reading this. So I guess that’s where my hope started. I hoped that if I (for once in my life) followed through with something, I wouldn’t fail miserably. Here’s to success – or something close enough.

So what does hope mean to me, besides hoping that a handful of strangers would stalk me on the internet? Let’s face it… in a sense, that’s basically what’s happening here.

To be completely honest, when I think of the word HOPE, I think of a silly teenage mistake I made in getting the words HOPE and FAITH tattooed on my hip bones one random afternoon. How are those going to look when I have babies? In case you’ve never actually met me in person, I should tell you – I’ve been known to not think things through all the way. “No, you? Really?” Yeah. Me. No mocking, please.

On a serious note (I promise “Kaila with an i” won’t be full of “on a serious note” moments… just tonight)… hope is one of those things that I think about quite often, and it gives me that slightly sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I am just hoping things work out… in the short run, in the long run, in the end, whenever. In high school, I thought things were fine and dandy and that life was pretty acceptable (not great, not good… just acceptable). Looking back, I realize that I was hoping for all the wrong things. Granted, I’d like to pride myself in growing up a whole lot since high school, but still. Then I graduated (6^th in my class, by the way… not tooting my own horn or anything…) and I hoped that would help me get a great college degree, a great job, and of course… a great salary. Now it’s been three and a half years and I am unemployed and finally about to get a degree – an Associate’s Degree – in Liberal Studies – from a community college. And I can’t fend off all the job offers I’ve gotten with that impressive resume of mine. Yes, that’s a joke people.

So now my first little sister is going off to a prestigious nursing school this week (tear tear, I’m getting so old), and I have all the hope in the world for her that she succeeds in achieving all of her dreams. And I hope that she has the experience of a lifetime. And all that other cheesy stuff.

So for now, to me, hope is just clinging on to something in my gut that says I’m gonna be alright. There’s really no evidence that says I won’t. In fact, I have a pretty awesome life - an amazing and dedicated husband, a sweet little house three minutes from the beautiful ocean, a handful of irreplaceable friends scattered across the country, and a priceless family that’s always there for me – mentally if not physically – thank you 4,000 mile separation.

And to wrap it all up, I have an undying hope that when I wake up, my blog will have hit 200 views. I’m not sure if I even know 200 people. I sure as hell don’t like 200 people, so thanks to you, strangers (and my mom, because I know that half the views are you, mother). Seriously… thank you.