Last night I didn’t want to look at the election results. I put my phone away. I was thinking, this is the Schrödinger's cat point of the timeline, where good things can still happen and I want to live in that space for a little while longer.
My husband woke me up in the middle of the night. He said, He won. I couldn’t go back to sleep. I had to do my four-count breathing. I woke from a dream that all of the Harris signs in the neighborhood were flipped upside down. I realized, This is reality. Why am I fighting against it?
It's what many people want. The name calling and the wrestlemania-like spectacle. The fear of Other, whoever Other happens to be. They want RFK Jr with his brain worm in charge of Health and Human Services and Elon Musk to tank the economy how he tanked Twitter. How do you argue with that?
After the 2016 election, I walked around in a daze, worrying about abortion access and the hatred stirred up about Muslim people and Black people and Mexican people and disabled people. The newly elected president had proudly bragged that he could grab women anytime he wanted and they would let him. I tunneled back to an old traumatized childhood self and thought I might be losing my mind.
But then I rallied. I threw myself into every resistance group I could find. I called congresspeople and went to protests. At the Women's March in DC I saw John Kerry walking down the sidewalk in his long dark coat. He was so tall and somber looking. It made me think of Abraham Lincoln. Kerry had been the Secretary of State and I imagined him thinking, Great, now all my work’s going to shit.
The most important difference between the two candidates: she will accept the loss; he would never. Are people really okay with this?
At the library we put up a display of cozy books. What will our patrons want to see on Wednesday when they walk in, looking for some sign that the world we live in is the same world we lived in yesterday. Books about knitting and making soup. Light mysteries and sentimental stories. I won't be there.
My husband had a medical procedure yesterday, and I'm here with him at home. He’s fine. But there was a moment in the hospital while I was waiting for the news, and it could have gone either way. It can always go either way. I was looking at the other people waiting around me, some on their phones, some flipping through magazines. Over the intercom an urgent voice said, Code Blue Code Blue. We all looked up at the ceiling and we knew.
Someone was being lost or someone was being saved. Saved, I pray. Saved.
I have no words this morning, but I wanted to say thank you for yours.
Sigh. The flower rising thru the concrete seems to tell us to not give up hope entirely.
I added a shelf display of "cute n' cuddly" at the library today as well. I think I was wishing for something to cuddle myself!
Rebecca asked me sincerely and in a caring tone how I was doing and it helped just to know there is someone kind. I know that and I know there are still lots of good people out there. But it is confusing...did people really choose this? I'm still trying to understand...trying not to worry about all the immigrants and the planet...trying to remember that flowers can grow in a crack of concrete...
I hope your hubs makes a speedy recovery!