Today's Writing Challenge was supposed to be about a book I love, but I've had the literal joy sucked out of my day.
So I'm writing what I feel right now so that, maybe, just maybe, I can find sleep with only a scant three and a half hours left before I have to get up for work.
I know the sun will rise tomorrow. I know that the 'fight' isn't over. But right now I feel a loss nearly as profound as when I lost my dad three years ago. He would be saddened to see the results of this election. He was an immigrant who worked hard to make life better not only for his family but also for his community. He was a patriotic naturalized citizen who believed that Americans were the world's most compassionate and caring people.
The vitriol, the behavior and baggage, the history and reprehensible cohorts of our president-elect are not that America.
Living in upstate New York, I always said that people here are good. In twelve years, I've not experienced the stench of racism, nor felt the barbs of discrimination, but that I am comfortable and safe no longer matters if any other resident of this great land feels it.
My loved ones, friends and I are among the vast group marginalized by a campaign that resorted to falsehoods and grandstanding, mockery and violence to defend the status quo. How can I be sure the sun will rise as warm and life-giving for us all in the morning?
I waited for sleep to wash over me, tried to think of a cheerful song or anthem, but came up short with nothing but a tear-dotted pillow to account for my efforts.
We will wake tomorrow, go about our business of work, of taking care of our families and being good citizens. But we will have more important work to do then. I am still trying to find something positive here, to find a message, to find a fight song.
For now I can only say, 'America, America, what have you done?'
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