I often struggle with posting in times when the genuine darkness of our current reality is most visible, and previously I would tell myself that I didn't have words for what was happening, but that isn't true––I am overrun with words. There are words pounding in my brain and flashing across my vision and running out my ears. Barbaric, inhumane, racist, traumatizing, reprehensible, cruel, unrecoverable. Helpless, angry, anguished, guilty, complicit, frightened, sad. The problem isn't a lack of words, but an inability to arrange them in a configuration that expresses something new or useful or motivating or reassuring. They are just words in a pile that I keep having to trudge through as I clean the house and make candles and help Ivy fold origami hearts and donate and debate driving to the border this weekend.
"You could talk about dinner," Anna gently suggests from the other side of the couch, seeing me tear up at the keyboard.
Dan is out of town and we have basically just been eating pancakes at all hours.
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| Pancakes, apples, smiles, distraction |
We have also been augmenting our FaceTime chats with Daddy with sound effects and different backgrounds.
Anna is still talking, by the way, and has now moved on to railing against the Electoral College, so I haven't given up all hope yet.
