BRATTLEBORO — The day after the election, I woke, benumbed and disbelieving, just as I had on that fateful day in November 1963, when John F. Kennedy was assassinated. I recalled that moment when time stood still and my world turned upside down.
Yet, just this morning, one day later, as the sun rose, pouring its golden rays on the very spot where I sit each morning to do my daily reading and writing, I was surprised at how light and unencumbered I felt, as the heavy load of agitation, deeply simmering rage and fear that had held me in its grip began to evaporate.
For the past eight years, Congress has hogtied our current president, blocking all legislative action, enchaining him and the country.
Consumed by their hatred of the other - a young, black man, poised, smart and eloquent, who clearly has outclassed them - the opposing party responded by spreading their toxic miasma into every nook and cranny available.
And then, along came the unspeakable horror that dominated all forms of communication for the past year and a half, as a bloviating and bellicose bully arose from the depths, obliterating all norms of civil and cultural behavior and discourse in his path.
Finally, it was over; only ashes and the smell of defeat remained.
And for some strange reason, I had been miraculously released from the forces that had kept me - and the country - hostage for so long.
* * *
I ponder now how I was captured by the insanity of it all, by the excitement and hope, the dream of a better, fairer country that turned into a nightmare.
I have always loved spectacle, the impossible outcome, the turn of the screw that precedes the fair and just return to normalcy.
But these wild expectations can end badly - in remorse, sorrow, and exhaustion. Especially in politics.
My feet are back on the ground, as I realize once again what a convoluted and crazy-making political system we have, one whose engine is money, big money, more money than I can even realize.
It's a system ruled by deceit and dirty tricks, by posturing and prostituting one's self, one's character and soul, on the altar of power.
Why do I get caught up in it? It's a fool's game.
* * *
So, today I gave myself a treat and went off to Experienced Goods, where I found a vintage cream-colored bowl from the 1940s, painted ever-so-delicately with orange poppies. It is a make and design I love.
Even though I had vowed not to buy any more dishes, since I have a rather large pantry full of them, I enjoy using them so much that it seems worth it.
And isn't this what makes a life? Those small and simple pleasures, the everyday tasks and routines, the good cup of coffee, the satisfying meal?
I am back to myself, older and wiser. I am back to appreciating who and what's around me, to living in the now, cherishing what is, being alive, and nurturing hope.
America once seemed so great to me as a child, a teenager, a voting mother, and even into my middle years. Perhaps it can rise again, as I did this morning.
Donald Trump will rise or fall, succeed or fail, as the fates decide. The devilish game that is politics will go on, with or without me.
It's a new day - one in which we can choose to go forward.