A Bug Named Hope

By Isha Sanghvi
Isha Sanghvi


A Bug Named Hope
Isha Sanghvi
Isha Sanghvi
Thin flickers of sunlight escaped from the clouds, hitting mothers crooked nose which was crinkling
at the odor masking the avenue. While ambling through the fluorescent colors of the city, I drew close to
mothers side as she warned me of the men who parasitized on aloof children. I huffed, puffing out my chest
and let go of mothers grip, only to receive a light spanking for my indecent act of bravery. Clutching
mothers sweaty palm, it dawned on me: she was afraid. So, I soothed my mother by talking about the latest
troubles at Winston Church Elementary. She nodded occasionally, and held her breath at every meeting with
a stubbed cigar. In order to ease her mind, I told mother some jokes, which received an award-winning death
grip on my numb hand. She dragged me along the street whereas I clumsily fell, trampling on an elderly
woman and an amused girl. We both scanned each other for a minute, but there wasnt much for me to look
at except her green eyes that were stuck on my left hand. I narrowed and dropped my eyes to my left hand, to
see my priceless gold watch.
It was needless to emphasize that it was MY gold watch.
Do not make eye contact with them, Mothers voice quavered. Instinctively, I looked away, but
then looked back, shooting my hand over my watch. The girl and my mother noticed this, but while my
mother scowled, the girl smiled toothily.
Shes probably just thinking about her shelter home.
I bit my bottom lip, stared at her for awhile, and then felt a spank on my back. My cheeks burnt as I
followed her. The breeze fanned my face; the girl's silhouette fading into the darkness of the city.

My eyes dilated as a pretentious woman and her daughter fled to the other side of the street. Even I could
concur that me and Nana werent the best-looking people here, but we certainly werent the worst. I think it had to
do with my sign, not my face. I looked at my reflection through the dirt-speckled steel container and rubbed at my
cheeks. Staring at my thin worn-down cardboard sign, I traced the words, 'Help' and 'GOD' and skimmed my callous
fingertips over my hot tears. The girls faint contour grew smaller in the bright maze of the people in the shops.

Her face had an edge to it. Subconsciously, I fingered my watch and glanced back at the girl. As the
cars sped by, I tried to fit together fragments of images. I could finally make out the girl hunched over. An
audible squeal permeated the cold air. Along with several others, I glanced back to find puzzle pieces: a man
running quickly with a tin can, the girl pounding her fists on the ground, and the woman clutching her heart.
With my hand in mother's who pulled me along her rich path, I struggled to break free. I furrowed my
eyebrows, Why isnt anyone helping them? They're impoverished. My mother spat.

I envied the blind who at the particular moment didn't have to see the void where my earnings once were.
Who didn't have to see Nana, dying right in front of me. Who didn't have to see the word, 'GOD' invisibly etched out
of my sign. I looked down at my tattered sneakers, with a hole in the sole. My eyes spotted light pink dress shoes in
front of me. My eyes rose, gazing out at rich blond hair and a cracked smile. The girl stood a good foot away from
me and dropped a watch --the watch-- in front of my feet. I beamed shyly, whereas she nodded and ran back to the
other side of the street, escaping from my fleeting world. I stared at the watch.

After running back to fuming Mother, I gasped for air and smoothed the skin where the watch once
left an imprint. I felt better now that it was gone.

For some reason, whenever I saw the watch, I saw mother's reflection. Mother used to like telling me
bedtime stories. When we were forced out onto the streets, she told me the same story every night. I didn't get
tired of it. As long as she was the one to tell it, I was fine. I forgot what the story was called. I liked to call it, ALittle
Isha Sanghvi
BugNamedHope. She told me that when a curious little girl opened a box, evil infected mankind, but a tiny bug
called Hope gave man the power to live amongst the evil. I wanted to ask mother, What happens when you open
the box and hope isnt there? I never mustered up the courage because even I knew what she would say back. I
knew she would say, "You become like us." I would have said that. But, I knew now. I got my hope. I stared down at
the gold watch and I saw the hope I needed, reflecting the light back onto me.

Mother asked why. For all it was worth, it was a simple straightforward question. But sometimes, its
the straightforward questions that have complicated answers. So, I just shook my head and said, "That watch
was shabby, she needed it more than I did."
That was partly true.
In the pool of differences we share, I just wanted to give her a similarity. But the flaw was that I would never know if
we would be similar. So even if we werent one step closer to being similar, we might have been closer to being equal.