I was talking with a friend today, and we rabbit-trailed around our lives, catching up and telling secrets. We joked about an impending sense of doom. It's the election, she said. It's the death of dreams, I thought. We giggled at our morbidity.
This thought of The Day After has been bubbling in me for a week. November 9th. I am eager for it, as I see the constant feed and play of vitriolic ads and shares. We are all feeling it. We are shutting down. It has been too much, for too long, and too many ugly underbellies have been shown.
Come to me, November 9th, the day we will all go back to being Americans. The powers that be will move us out of their targets, and we will cleave again to our friends and neighbors, and carry on with our lives.
This deadly divide will stop shouting at us, from every outlet and rooftop, and we will be The People again. Twenty years in this community, twenty years of shared lives and experience, striving to give our families the foundation that freedom allows. I do not choose to focus on what divides us; down that road lies constant strife. An endless soundtrack of bitter division.
My eyes are on my friends, my family, my people here in the community. My eyes are on the job at hand. The kindness that matters every day, spoken in small ways, shown in daily life. The actions that build our community and welcome each of us to share news with each other, to share our lives.
When Cole was a small boy, I had a constant mantra for him, when he was out of sorts, or when he was down. I've stopped saying it over the years, and it came to me again this week. It was my way of encouraging him to follow his birthright, find the divine inside.
Find the angel inside, buddy. The angel inside knows the way. The angel inside guides your heart and actions. You just have to let it out.
It's time for November 9th. It's time to let out the angel again.