Not. Going. Back.

In 2016, on a cool morning in early November, I stopped at an elementary school on my walk to the T.  They checked my name off a list, I stepped up to a partitioned desk, check my boxes, and smiled as I walked over to the scanning station. The volunteers handed me an "I Voted" sticker and I floated out the same door I'd walked in minutes prior, as if carried out on clouds.  We were doing it.  I had just helped do it.  We would see the first female president elected in a matter of hours.  Tears of happiness, gratitude, and amazement stung my eyes as I continued on to work that day.

Of course, we all know the rest of that story.

As the results rolled in, I was as stunned as anyone.  I remember taking the train from Boston to Philadelphia the next morning for a work conference and the whole train felt like we were riding in a funeral procession.  And still. Even then! We had no idea how bad it could get, what the next four years might entail. I shudder as I think about it.

In 2024, late in the afternoon on very warm October 31, I cast my vote.  Today, officially Election Day, I find myself a bundle of distracted and anxious nerves. The city feels extra quiet today.  Schools are closed and everyone I pass on the street seems preoccupied. I read this morning that it feels as if the whole country is bracing for something - which, of course it is.

Today, I find that I have not only been thinking about the future of our country and democracy, but that my heart is honing in on some of those closest to my little orbit. 

I think of my Grandmother, all of my Grandparents in fact - all born before women had the right to vote. 

I think of my beloved friends, all of us doing the best we can to navigate this mid-life life.

My friend's children.

My nephew.

I think of children not yet born. 

What will we tell them? How will we explain all of this, this surreal time we find ourselves living in?

I am not as naive as I was 8 years ago when I scanned my ballot.  It feels like we're reaching for a ring on the carousel ride. This ring- this beautiful shiny brass ring that will uphold the democratic foundation our country was built upon - is just within our grasp.  It is so close, so many of us can feel it.  And yet a very real and dangerous threat looms.  Today, as I stress clean my apartment, try unsuccessfully to distract myself with my work to-do list, and take my dog on multiple walks just so we can both get outside and stop staring at each other, I whisper the same prayer I have said for the last several months - 

May we come out on the right side of history.

Because how we can live with ourselves if we don't?