The night before the election just a week ago, I was anxious, but resigned. Soon, we would have an answer and we could move on with our lives having a sense of what the next four years would be like.
I wanted to write about how I was feeling at that moment, a written time capsule that I could look back on. But I didn’t.
I used to feel pretty isolated in our neighborhood. It’s not that anyone was openly unfriendly, we just didn’t talk to each other very much.
We aren’t the type of neighborhood that has block parties and drinks beer together while we listen to good music, shouting at our kids and our dogs, and contemplating the trajectory of the universe as the sun goes down.
We prefer to do those activities separately.
Every year in California, there is a big thing called Costume College. It’s a weekend where costumers, especially historical costumers, get together to dress up, geek out, and learn how to better their craft. Even though I was terrified and felt ill prepared, I signed up to go this year.
Years ago, when I had fewer kids, I would go barefoot in the house come summertime. The first warm day there was a bit of dread as I came downstairs sockless in the morning, knowing I was about to find out how dirty my floors had gotten over the winter.
I’d feel the grit under my feet and pull out the broom, and the rest of the summer would be a tug between kids, crumbs, dirt, and my bare feet.
Several kids later, I’ve given up and wear socks year-round. I do clean my floors, often multiple times a day, but not frequently enough for bare feet.
Parenting in regular times is challenging. Parenting during a pandemic when we’re all isolated and chronically stressed often feels like a never-ending nightmare.
Sometimes, naming the good and bad things in life helps us remember the good, and make the bad seem less threatening.
