Coffee, ear buds, laptop and time in front of me.
This is the sweetest deja vu. Hell, I should light a candle.
Somewhere, after the election and before the inauguration, it occurred to me that I hadn’t listened to my own playlists since – I can’t remember when. (Most likely that dates back to somewhere around the time the outgoing decided to run for president.)
On inauguration day, after listening to (and being captivated by) Amanda Gorman, I felt the softening. (Hello, hope!) It was a familiar melting of the tension like that I’d all-too-often carried back in the days of the narcissist.
My eyes delighted at the colors I didn’t realize I’d been thirsting for. Teal, maroon, the brightest yellow, red and blues washed across the screen and foretold the promise of possibility in this new chapter. Other than burnt orange, had we seen anything other than shades of grey in the last four years?
Then, that night, when Demi Lovato sang “Lovely Day,” the melting included tears. I began to sway. I felt lighter.
On the 21st, I started to put some pieces together.
I haven’t written much, or listened to music much or felt the desire to create much – for what seems like a very long time.
I used to take pictures for posts, and arrange the art in the house and have music on all the time. I used to look up ideas for projects and dream up recipes and write and read. I remember walking the hill without holding a phone. (Recently, I may have been seen storming the neighborhood, head down, earbuds in, listening to NPR, in an effort to prepare for the next debacle.) And dance! I used to dance to Sam Cooke, The Squeeze, Pink Martini and anything and everything from the 70s, sometimes even when the kids were in the room.
I discovered that in the last four or five years, if I had music on, it was after the news, for 30 minutes while I threw an uninspired dinner together. I used to dance when I cooked – wooden spoon in one hand, a glass of wine in the other.
I had seen the tweets about how the transition out of the last administration was so much like coming out of an abusive relationship. I had observed the familiar patterns in the behavior. (Part of me kept thinking that “the people in charge” would do something.) But it wasn’t until Thursday, that loveliest of days, after the inauguration, that I knew what those tweeters were getting at. Just like in my previous experience, that abuse permeated everything so slowly, that it isn’t until it’s over that I realize what had happened. Sure, I called out the behavior. Just watching him talk turned my stomach. But I still didn’t realize how everything had been tainted, until he was gone.
I had been in a state of high-alert, which prevented me from being able to focus. I’ve barely read a book in the last couple years. Now I see that it felt too risky to take my eyes off of him. I felt the need to keep my family safe. You know, keep an eye on the spider in the room. That nightmarish spider is finally out of the house.
Last night, Jen and I danced in the kitchen. Who cares if the neighbors could see us? I hope they were dancing, too. Tonight we’ll skip the news and play music, while we quickly check social media – just to make sure that it’s okay to take our eyes off of current events.
I just looked out the window to see the shadows in the park. Is the sky bluer? Even the chickadees don’t seem as mad at the squirrels, for eating all their seed.
It will take some time to trust that feeling of hope. It took years to do the damage. Perhaps the biggest lesson is realizing that WE are the people in charge.
Let’s enjoy this lovely day. Let’s savor it and stretch it out for longer than the typical news story lasts. We’ve earned it.
Then let’s get back to work to make sure we can keep dancing.