I fought back tears and was grateful for a mask to hide behind. The moment she spoke about hope, I understood that depression was sinking her fingers into me. Not solely due to the virus, but due to a faltering sense of hope.

Today I treated myself to a lovely pedicure, one of those that involved creams, scrubs and a heavenly massage of my tired calves. The manicurist and I were both wearing masks, and I was behind plexiglass, the salon was small and I felt safe.

The woman who was treating my toes to such an unnecessary luxury was talking about business during the pandemic and she spoke of hope.

She told me that she kept hope alive by making plans, by thinking about where she hoped to travel sometime next year. We spoke of the biggest problem we both believed was at the crux of the faltering mental health of so many human beings: There is no plan. We have no solid leadership looking out for us.

She said, “But we need to keep hope to avoid sinking into depression.”

I fought back tears and was grateful for a mask to hide behind. The moment she spoke about hope, I understood that depression was sinking her fingers into me. Not solely due to the virus, but due to a faltering sense of hope.

If my crystal ball was able to determine the future, I would see hope; bright and vibrant hope lighting our way. Hope will be on the corner of every street, in the smiles we share with our neighbors and on planes, trains and hiking trails.

I will wave my magic wand and create a new dawn, so that when humanity awakes, we will stretch our arms and feel rested, refreshed, smile before the sleep even leaves our eyes, and we will bounce out of bed to begin our day.

Venturing out, I will hug everyone I can; the checkout clerks, people sharing the trails with me, my yoga teachers and most especially, my friends.

Hope will ease my worries about the world my beautiful granddaughter will inherit and it will roll back the years that have magnified these past few months inside my bones.

I will laugh, long and loud, while my heart sings with joy.

Though the awareness that my life will one day end will still frighten me, I will race to LIVE each day, to seize the inevitable challenges with a soul determined to shine it’s light on all I love.

When I look through my crystal ball I see world leaders who work to bring our country back together, care about the planet, world health, resisting racism, sexism, all the ‘ism’s.

The pain I have almost succumbed to is fear for the future. I want to believe that the world we will inhabit post-pandemic will move in the direction of hope, leadership and kindness. No, I don’t just want to believe this. I have to.

There have been essays about how the world will change, especially for people over 60, once we have a vaccine. Perhaps there is a measure of truth in some of their warnings, but I’ve never been one for letting others determine what my emotional future will look like.

My future will include ‘good trouble,’ as John Lewis said so eloquently:

“Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.”

Hope is powerful. We all need a heavy dose of that shit.

We are swirling in a mess that feels like one of powerlessness and could easily push us into despair.

But are we really powerless?

I don’t think we are. We need to grieve the losses this pandemic has brought, but we need to fight against sinking into despair.

We can be kind even when others are not.

We can speak out when we witness anything unfair or unjust.

We can vote.