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It’s been a rough few weeks since “she said/he said” threw the country into turmoil.

I thought only a declaration of war could do that.

The level of ugliness that surfaced astounded me. I thought I’d seen most of what humankind is possible in my seventy-five years.

No so. People I hold to a higher standard by the elected office they hold, sank to a new low.

I cringed. I prayed for sanity, human dignity, compassion to rule.

I prayed for every mother who had a daughter that had been sexually assaulted. I knew that old wounds were bleeding again.

I knew no band aid or surgical dressing would stem the flow of memories, of tears.

Only time can heal.

And the three-ring circus of the past weeks has ripped away the Veil of Time and we mothers are once again standing at a bedside or an open grave.

I’ve been sleeping badly. My subconscious creating all manner of nightmares.

But last night I realized that –

  • I’ve done all I can.

  • Events will run its course.

  • The country will bumble through.

  • It’s up to the next generation to pick up the cudgel.

I’m tired. So tired.

  • Of being upset.

  • Of watching a sick drama unfold.

  • Of knowing the world is watching and laughing.

  • Of being kept awake and so –

I reminded myself of how much there is to be grateful for. On a personal level. On a wider level.

And that the United States, my adopted country I love so much, is still a democracy.

I have a voice and a vote. So have you. Please use it.


Photo by Vera Arsic on Pexels

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