The following was written by Daisy Devine for her new column series, “The Thing About Hope”. Devine’s series will be published in the second edition of every month.
I am not yet sure if I believe in luck, or fate, or destiny.
It all seems so big. Too big to ever fully understand.
But what I do know to be true is that good always comes back. That dark times cannot and will not last forever.
Throughout my life this has proven true. Like when my mother became very sick when I was 11 years old; being the resilient person that she is, my mother remains very much alive and fighting.
Watching the person you love most hurt for so long is a thing I would wish on no one, but it is from her that I gather my strength, of which she seems to have to no end.
Through those times, I began pouring each bit and piece of myself into a collection of journals. They may be the most beat-up, torn, paint-covered journals in all of existence, but for the past five years they have been my way through the things that were just too big.
They are mainly filled with my never-ending list of places I wish to visit, and a million other plans and hopes for the future, both my own and the world’s. This is quite fitting, as I’ve never been good at accepting solely what is.
In fact, 17 years ago, I made the decision to be born an entire three months early, making my entrance to the world at a whopping 1 pound, 12 oz. If that was not a premonition of my impatience for the future, I am not sure what would be.
Since that day, I grew up in a rectangular yellow house in the country, nestled right in the middle of California. I was surrounded by every type of animal, which makes my immense need to save every snail off of the sidewalk when it rains no real surprise. It was a beautiful place to call home, but I have forever been anxious to see past it. To see more.
So, when my family decided to pack up everything we possibly could and take off to Washington to finally live alongside the rest of our family, grandparents, aunts, cousins and all, I was ready.
To say the drive was a little rough would be putting it nicely. With two dogs and four people stuffed into a truck with an 18-hour drive ahead of them, tensions may have been a little high, especially with the added joy of only stopping to use the bathroom. Of course, by bathroom I mean the makeshift bucket that resided in the rickety old trailer we were pulling behind us. Which, yes, is just as strange and uncomfortable as it sounds.
Moving during a pandemic has its pros, but that was not one of them.
Despite that strange addition to the journey, we were determined not to falter in our plan to make it without a night’s rest. However this was soon foiled when the brake lights went out after dark, leading us to rest at an Oregon truck-stop for what would soon be the worst night of sleep any of us had ever experienced, parked between two very large, very noisy semis.
After three hours of attempted sleep we took off yet again, and four hours later, finally arrived. Slightly delirious, and very much sleep deprived, but home.
In our short time here, it feels as though my heart is full. I feel profoundly lucky to finally be near my family, especially during these uncertain times. This is a privilege I know that many do not have, and I feel lucky yet again to have found a place my writing may make a difference. That is truly something I have never before thought possible.
I realize that I have yet to really write about who I am. I will be the first to admit that talking about myself is not something that comes easily. So, I pray you’ll forgive me for instead telling you about what I believe to be true. What are we if not made up of everything we have loved?
I am someone who knows that people are inherently good. Human beings, at their core, are resilient creatures. We overcome, and stand together in times of tragedy as-well as in times of joy. We believe in things fiercely and without apology, a fact I will never cease to be inspired by.
I hope, in this new endeavor, to write not for myself, but for you. To give a voice to the people behind the movements that fill our conversations and television screens. The ones I hold in my heart each and every day.
I am someone who chooses hope above all else. Someone who believes that it is not just what fuels us, but what saves us. I promise that I will try my hardest to fill each of my words with it, as I refuse to be in the business of helping you to see the world as anything but good.
I also realize that I am only 17 years old, and have yet to see all the people and places I wish to, and have yet to experience even half of what I soon will. However, what I believe our world needs are more diverse voices, and I bring to you the voice of someone who has a lifetime yet to live on this Earth, and who wants to be a part of its changing for the better.
My goal for this column is to inspire you to consider things from this new perspective. Regardless of whether you agree, disagree, or have yet to choose, I urge you to approach each new topic with an open heart and an open mind. To listen to those different from you with kindness, as we are far stronger as one than we are divided.
The world may very well be too big for any one person to understand, but I believe what we must remember when the dark times inevitably come, is that we do not have to understand it all by ourselves.
After all, the only way out of the dark is through, and the only way through is together.
Daisy Devine is a senior at the Enumclaw High School.