Election

To the man taking the wheel in this country: as a person with a disability, I feel like I’m nothing and THAT terrifies me.

In the weeks since Election Day, I’ve come to realize that while I’m entitled to my feelings, resenting the Latinx folks who voted for Trump is not a productive use of my time.

Because here's the thing. Kindness is the antidote to the poison being pedaled by the Trumps of the world. Your anger is valid and important, and your despair should never be overlooked. And you can be all of the things, feel all of the feelings, ardently and vigorously defend the most vulnerable among us, say all of the words you need to say, and act with an undercurrent of kindness.

We will not be having our first woman president and I, for one, must grieve. A dream deferred.

This morning my son woke up laughing. My son woke up laughing and I woke up crying. My son woke up laughing and his little squeaky voice was a light in the darkness to me. I went into his room and moved towards his crib and he smiled at me. And I was so grateful, grateful for him and who he is, but also grateful that he is still a baby and I do not have to explain what happened last night.

What do you say? What do you say when the unthinkable happens?

The bottle of champagne I had chilled and ready to pop in celebration sits untouched. My 21-year-old daughter sits near me, solemn. She has lost hope.

We are 17 days from the election. There is no amount of Facebook unfriending that is going to make you not related to your Fox-News-addicted Uncle Jeff. Your father will still be your father, whether he votes for Donald Trump or Santa Claus. In the zen tradition, I have a long way to go but if I make it until November 9th, I’m golden. Here’s my plan — but you might not like it.