There are times where I feel the optimism of the changing season. The weather is cool in the mornings now. We turn off our AC and wake up buried under warm blankets. I take out cozy socks and cardigans. Chili is back in our meal rotation. I hopefully won’t need to check the dog for ticks much longer after he comes back inside.
Sometimes, I can forget for just a little and pretend everything is back to normal. But there are nagging reminders that keep me from forgetting for very long. The masks in my car. The flash of anger I feel when I spot someone not wearing theirs or seeing a nose poke out of one, peak passive aggression. The reminders at Meijer to wash my hands and stay six feet apart. The commercial straight of Black Mirror telling me to STAY HOME, SAVE LIVES with a soundtrack that will probably haunt me into senility. The HOA Facebook posts that I should probably stop reading for my own mental health, asking the deep, hard-hitting questions like, is Fauci a Communist? But what about Hydroxychloroquine?
Seeing all the Trump signs around the neighborhood. Horrible comments on Facebook about a Black Lives Matters protest at the gas station. RBG. That was a rough one. The fate of democracy shouldn’t rest on the shoulders of an 87-year-old woman. There’s only 41 days until the election. Either way, I don’t think the outcome will be good. I doubt we’ll go to bed knowing who the president is. And we have a sitting president already delegitimizing the election process, before it’s even happening.
Taking everything one day at a time is such a platitude and sometimes one that makes me angry. It’s too easy to toss it as a salve to someone without really thinking about what the other person is experiencing. But honestly, it’s all I can do. Find the good moments and focus on what I have. Hoard things to look forward to. Not think about what I’ve lost. It never becomes routine. It’s a daily fight. Some days, I’m really good at it. Others, not so much. I fear today will be the latter.