It was our annual family log-splitting weekend here in Northern Illinois. The leaves are changing color, the air is cool, and it felt good to work outside in it all.
Then the kids found a baby vole next to its dead sibling and mother. And good lord our kids like to rescue animals.
So now we have a miniscule vertebrate in our care. We’re feeding it baby formula with an eye-dropper. It can’t even open its eyes. We decided if it lived longer than a day, we’d call it “Lucky.” And since it’s been 3 days, Lucky it is.
At first, I didn’t want to start this endeavor because I didn’t want to get the kids’ hopes up. The thing is, we’re probably not going to save this animal. It’s the size of a bumble bee and needs a mouse mom.
But then again, why not hope?
Reader, the older we get, the more jaded we become. I’ve noticed that I’ll sometimes not begin on a dream of mine because I’ve experienced enough heartbreak to know that hope sometimes leads to sadness. Be it in my music career or at the restaurant or in relationships we friends, I sometimes shy away from hope. But when I think about it, the only danger in hoping is that things don’t work out. And that’ll happen anyway. So piss it. Hope hope hope.
This week, I’m hoping hard on a lot of fronts. Wishing you the same. I’ll see you next Monday. -Em
