This day began in usual fashion. I signed on early to the work laptop and began sorting through e-mails. Andy padded out to the living room, put on his classical music, then turned on the coffee-maker. I went outside for a minute and took these pictures of the sky and the remaining leaves in the early sunlight. They would fall off soon enough. The air was warm – warmer than it should be for November, a little blessing when the mornings have recently been so cold.
I wondered why it didn’t feel like I was in proper mourning. Maybe when you’ve mourned things that really matter, you no longer feel so affected by world events. Then I realized: I’ve already mourned.
I mourned when Donald Trump got elected the first time.
I mourned when his administration separated children from their families.
I mourned when he incited an insurrection, his followers trashed our Capitol, and he tried to overthrow an election.
I mourned when he stole classified documents and got away with it.
I mourned when he was convicted of sexual assault and didn’t serve jail time.
I mourned when he appointed Supreme Court Justices who promptly took away reproductive freedom from women.
I mourned when he allowed a pandemic to ravage our people by downplaying it and giving out misinformation.
I mourned when he embraced racism and homophobia and sexism.
I mourned when the media presented both candidates as relatively equal, and then people who didn’t really follow politics assumed they must be, so any little thing could sway them one way or another rather than presenting the clear and present danger one candidate was.
I mourned when I saw interviews with young people who said they were voting for Trump and when pressed why didn’t have any answer whatsoever, and didn’t even seem to care.
I mourned when this country even considered that someone who spoke like that man would be a fit President.
Mostly, I mourned for the people who suffered the most under his policies and didn’t even realize it until it was too late.
So for me, I’ve already mourned what has happened, and what is about to happen. I’m not mourning this again.
Outside, I watch the sun move a little higher in the sky. Feathery seed heads of fountain grass sway gently in the breeze, and every now and then an oak leaf spins slowly to the ground. It truly is a beautiful morning. Our little world, of beauty and love and compassion, is still intact. Find me here.
