The story of Hope


Hope walked into class that day like it was any other. Her dark hair straight against her back and her eyes dull behind her glasses. She wore a dress with little butterflies on it. The base was black, and the butterflies white. It brought out her two colored eyes. One was green and one was brown. Hope sat down and got out her books for class. Ready to take notes that day. It was her sixth hour, only one more to go. Soon after the bell had rung, she was called to the office. Ready to leave. The confused girl gathered her things and went to her locker from there prepared to go home. As she got closer to the office she checked her phone.

“Hey, honey, surprise today.”

What surprise could it be? The office only a few feet away, you could see in. There in the front, next to the desks stood a man. He had silvery red hair, and freckles everywhere. Somehow he looked familiar, like a long forgotten memory. She slowly opened the door.

“Oh, my sweet little baby.” Said the man, “It’s been years since I’ve seen you.” The confused look on Hope’s face told him that she knew nothing. “I’m…I’m your father.”

“Papa?” Tears rolled down her face. The girl looked at him. Her father was home from Ireland, after nine years. Hope looked at this man still, dreamy. She had dreamt of the day he would return from grandmother’s.

This meant a new chapter, a new part, a new act. Her story could be continued, no longer was she going to just go through the days not knowing. Not knowing whether or not he was still alive. Now, this little Italian-Irish girl had back her father.