Calm After the Storm

Wind started blowing last night and lasted through the ugly, gray afternoon. It stole the few snowflakes that accumulated in our lawn, tipped over garbage cans located on the side of our house, and scattered pieces of garbage throughout our yard - some of them disappearing to who knows where. A big dog food bag no doubt traveled down the street, landed in a neighbor’s driveway, or got trapped beneath a shrub.

It wasn’t until the evening when I felt the weather seemed to suit the day perfectly as the last day of a long four years. The day after the 2016 election, I went to lunch with two friends and started to cry. At that point, I’d been crying off and on since 3 a.m. Later, I went snowshoeing with a friend on Inauguration Day to sort of block it out, but it came up in conversation anyway as we traipsed through the mountains wondering what the future looked like.

After four years, my body and mind are exhausted, and I’m ready to exhale. In recent weeks, I’ve spent so much time reading news and social media posts that my wrist hurts from holding my phone. My brain is distracted and my creative energy is low. 

Following the riot at the U.S. Capitol this month, I’ve wondered how our country got so lost, so angry, so fractured, so dangerous. Like many things that crumble over time, it’s hard to understand how and when the damage began in the first place. It didn’t begin with Donald Trump, but tensions escalated and fury seemed to magnify during his time in office.

I feel drained trying to understand and process what we’ve experienced as we watched the head of our country hurl one insult after another, demean any perceived enemy, turn his back on the pandemic, dismiss many of his closest allies, and fight an election he lost. He promoted dangerous rhetoric, created toxic tweets, and spread misinformation, which culminated in the last couple of months that have been incredibly stressful.

I keep coming back to words, and how they’re the beginning and ending of everything. They are power, they are wisdom, they are love, and they are weapons. If ugly words, lies, toxic tweets, and poison posts got us here, it seems that the logical first place to start getting out of a hole is with hopeful words, understanding, empathy, and truth. We also have to work from the bottom up and become more aware of how our own words create waves or still waters. We can’t rely on politicians for refuge and expect them to fix everything that is broken, because many of them don’t know how, or they don’t want to. 

After the wind stopped tonight, my husband and I took our dogs for short walk and were able to witness a beautiful sunset filled with golden, baby blue, and ash-colored hues. I was grateful for the scene; it felt like an ending and beginning.

I know tomorrow’s inauguration is not a magic wand, and I know Joe Biden is far from perfect, but I’m hopeful that if he keeps sharing messages of healing and unity like he has been, maybe the next four years will end differently and better than this January. Ultimately, the choice is ours.