Hope is something small; like the first glimpse of spring or a shimmer of dawn. When encouraged, hope grows. When smothered, hope dies. Sometimes hope just merely survives. And if it can survive, one day it may thrive. Most days, I do not have hope. I live in the dark; there is no room for light. But now and then the cracks in my mind give way and it seeps in. That light is my hope. My hope survives.