Looking for More Light, by Lauren Price

So it seems that Mother Nature is not the least bit fazed by the fact that March is upon us as the snow continues to come falling down. I went to my spot with less reluctance than I have in the past because not only am I numb to the weather as of late, but I’m currently numb to most of my emotions. It’s been a rough couple of weeks for me and the sullen, tireless snowfall resonates well with my soul as I sit outside looking up at the gray skies.

As I sidled up next to a thick, strong tree trunk perched closely to the top of the bank looking down at the snow-covered creek, I rested my head back on the tree and turned my face to the side. Despite the occasional flurries still falling, the snow was mostly done for the day and life was continuing on as usual. Birds were flying overhead and every now and then you could hear a squirrel making noises, bustling around in the bushes on the other side of the creek. As I watched a small group of birds skittering around in the snow, something caught my eye. The birds were hopping around on what appeared to be a tree that had fallen down a long time ago. Moss had grown over it and though it was a dull shade of green showing the signs of winter and not the vibrant glow it might have during the summer months, it was still present and proved as a nice bed for the birds to warm their feet on in the snow. During the warmer seasons I’m sure the moss thrives on the decaying tree trunk, providing a home and nutrients for many things trying to survive and grow. New life was created and made useful for other living creatures, just by growing on something previously destroyed. This simple example of life sparked something in me; something I have been struggling to find for weeks now about my life and about the future. That thing was hope.

This week before my trip into the woods, I read a passage that really hit home with me in Days of Destruction about the coal mining fields in West Virginia. Larry Gibson spoke of his childhood there and said, “I thought I was the luckiest kid in the world, with nature. I could walk through the forest. I could hear the animals. I could hear the woods talk to me. Everywhere I looked there was life.” I felt this exact way growing up in a small town on a river, where everyone knew everyone and a typical day was spent in the woods. But that lifestyle is no longer. It is very similar to the change Mr. Gibson experienced when he said, “Now there is no life there.” I can say just about the same for my hometown.

I grew up in Seaford, Delaware otherwise (and very frequently only known for) the 609-acre site of one of DuPont’s largest nylon plants. The once thriving company created an entire town of families, jobs, wealth and community. In fact a wealthy country club was built neighboring the plant. That was in 1939. Today, I live in a decaying town. Once known as one of the best small towns in America, Seaford was my home. DuPont lost all of its business in Seaford. Between half of its workers dying from Mesothelioma including my grandfather, and others having to leave town to find more work as the company began to lay people off as they lost funding, the wealth and success of the town plummeted. The country club has failed and been shut down. The golf course lands can’t even be sold for development due to astronomical chemical seepage from DuPont below the surface, and the high school in town went from being one of the best in the state, to one of the worst.

I came to college and became very jealous of all my new friends who missed their lives back home and their high school experiences, because I was sent away to Maryland for private school due to the state my town’s school was in, and I hated every minute of it. I always resented Seaford for that. I had such a good childhood, but then left with a bitter taste in my mouth when I went away to college.

It took me until today, at the creek to realize what an asshole I am. Instead of letting my town deteriorate around me like most people do, I should try doing something to restore and rebuild it. We live in a society that wants to grow and expand but no one ever takes the time to consider the importance of maintenance. Until we learn that we must maintain what we already have, we will never be able to succeed.

To quote Charles Bukowski, “You can’t beat death, but
 you can beat death in life sometimes and the more often you learn to do it, the more light there will be.” We can prevent the destruction of this world by restoring it, reviving it and putting life back into it. However to do this, we first need to put life back into ourselves.

I went to the creek this morning feeling defeated, broken down and sad about many things going on in my life, but in the end I left with hope. I left with a hope that we can actually fix some of these things in our lives that we hate, be it the environment or our personal life, if instead of sitting around and complaining about them, we actually put some of our thoughts into action. I finished a book by John Green last night that left me thinking of this quote. After today I hope that it is something we can all try and live by. “We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken.”

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