Hope Walks With Us

A Christmas letter about kindness, peace, and the quiet power of staying human in a fractured world.

it was the night before Christmas…

in a world full of war.

mortar fire crashes and echoes through the smoky hills on the horizon.

families sit sullen and divided at dinner tables in the town below.

on the streets, an old man hobbles through a beaten up neighborhood.

he walks with a stick, his tired hip burns with every step.

beside him skips an old street dog, once a stranger, now a friend, oblivious to the wars in the hills and the homes

the old man has named her Hope.

Hope follows him everywhere.

Hope never leaves his side.

even on the coldest, most unfriendly nights, Hope is there to keep him warm.

we watch for a while as they move down the broken cobblestone streets.

and then something strange becomes clear.

the dog isn’t following the man, the man is following the dog.

she is leading him somewhere.

they turn a corner. Hope skips down into an alleyway.

and there, in a broken courtyard, they find a fire.

a beautiful fire, built from the rubble of a half-destroyed town.

music plays softly, the crackling flames seem to dance with it.

around the fire is a gathering of souls.

a young boy with an amputated leg sits playing a harmonica, he has brought the music.

a young couple, newly in love, from opposite sides of a divided city, listen closely, hands intertwined, they have brought the love.

an old woman, tears glistening in her eyes, sits wrapped in a blanket on a seat of fallen stone, she imagines a world where kindness might still win.

a baby sleeps in a makeshift bassinet, even as explosions echo in the hills, he sleeps, untouched, unafraid...

he has bought the peace.

more people arrive still.

many led by animals.

drawn from every corner of the town.

All of them gathering here now. in this battered neighborhood,

around a fire made from the chaos of war.

Hope looks up at the dark sky.

a shadow of discontent drifts across the full moon.

she barks, her howl is sharp and fierce.

the shadow passes...

and for three glorious seconds, everything is bathed in moonlight.

the gunfire in the hills falls silent.

hatred loosens its grip.

there is only music, filled with Love.

Kindness.

Peace.

and all the people are filled with Hope.

Because they see, when they come together, even with chaos raging in the hills, everything can still be good.

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Merry Christmas, my friends.

G. x