50 Word Non-Fiction: Hope – Batch 6

Every week, we publish the latest (this link will open in a new window)50 Word Non-Fiction stories of Hope. Read this week's pieces below!

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I hope rare disease is better understood one day. To reduce the diagnostic odyssey many people face and to enhance health professional's knowledge of the physical, emotional and social struggles of each day. Hopefully, I will feel less invisible one day.

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Life had become as heavy as treacle and as dark as a kettlebell designed by Damocles, the joyous sparks of spare time compressed by Munros of workload never bagged. A pivotal turn of the wheel to the bright: Following the unicorn into Alba on a rainbow twirling with fresh opportunities.

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Hope once rose on the Grasmere but like daffodils in spring, they sagged, twisted and died. Now, a new king has been anointed. A powerful man, where, will he give all that power away and work collaboratively, to lead a country into a promise land. Hope starts rising again.

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I held him as my best friend recounted how she brought him into the world. This tiny, perfect little boy. Not even a week old, so untouched by society at large. He was so calm. Everything is ahead of him. He could change the world.

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Five, I’ll win the lottery. Four, I’ll get a pay rise. Three, I’ll stay healthy. Two, I’ll find love again. One, I’ll keep thinking positive. None, I’ll count my blessings for the riches I already have. ‘Mum! You’re rubbish at skimming stones!’ ‘I know, son. But I live in hope.’

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Moving house takes away my hope. I’ve moved house 10 times. I’ve lived in bungalows, flats, small homes and big homes. I’ve lived with my parents, brother, gran and cousins. Yet no matter where or who I’ve lived with, love is there. Love creates a home, and that is hope.

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They’re cavorting on the dancefloor, chanting in unison. Joyfully sad, dressed beyond their years, at the cusp between childhood and the unknown. Me, the teacher, reduced to bystander, no longer guiding. Then one of them jokes with the knowing irony of a seasoned comic. And I know they’ll be fine.

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I pass the gap site every day; a decayed tooth. Broken bricks crack, and binbag bunting flutters on rusted fences, twisted like old braces. A rotten cat bog, a homeless rasp. But in May, it’s filled with hopeful bluebells, dressing up the sycamore saplings, ready to try for change.

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Was I just lazy? Did I just have no passion, no drive? No-one is that forgetful, it must just be I didn't care. Why can't a grown woman cope with simple changes? After forty-one years, a psychiatrist said the words that changed everything: You have autism and ADHD.'

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Better or worse?

Worse.

Better or worse?

Worse.

You frown.

Better or worse?

Worse.

You sigh and shake your head.

Suddenly your face brightens.

Just a minute.I hear you rummaging through your instruments.

I see a flash of rose-pink.

Better or worse?

Better. That's much better.

Wow.