She had huge brown eyes, Hershey Kiss soft and chocolately . The little girl, maybe eight years old, came to the counter just as the clerk took my number sheet. I felt her solemn eyes on us as he took my $3.00 and entered my special numbers into the magic lottery machine.
I smiled at those big chocolate-kiss eyes and she whispered, “You are doing the lottery?” She spoke with awe. She looked at me with awe – she was looking at a maybe a soon-to-be-rich person. The eyes said it all – she had hope. She had hope the lottery could make me rich. It could make anyone rich. It could make her rich – if she were old enough to buy a ticket. It could change my life, change her life. The lottery was a wonder.
The wonder of hope is in the doing. In planting that garden and winning flowers or vegetables. In fixing that engine and winning the satisfaction of a job well done. In practicing that fast ball and winning a skill. In writing these words and winning someone to read them. In the wonder of “I have done something, and something comes of it.”
The wonder of hope is not in waiting for little white balls to spill from a spinning cage.
But could I say all that to those chocolate kiss eyes?
“Yes,” I said instead. “I am doing this because I want to help your school.”
I am more of a cynic – hope has nothing to do with me plopping down my $3.00. I am doing it for this blog.
The clerk chortled. He’s a cynic too, believing neither in the lottery nor in the schools benefiting.
The cynic won. The chocolate kiss eyes lost. Not a single special number spilled from the cage.
And yet, Little Girl with Chocolate Eyes, hope endures – maybe next time.