I can breathe again.
When I was a young child, no more than 11 years old, I was horsing around with someone who was my age and weighed roughly the same amount that I weighed. At some point in this playing, I wound up on my back with the person sitting on my chest. I could not draw a breath. As I tried to buck this person off me, fear settled in because even at that young age I realized that I would die if I could not draw my next breath.
I am sharing this story today because subconsciously, that is exactly how I’ve been feeling for the last four years: as if this unmovable mass has been slowly suffocating me. I was suffocating with fear, horror, anger, sadness, pity, embarrassment, and many more adjectives. The constant churn of the U.S. news cycle had me trained like Pavlov’s dog to expect the worst. It has been nauseating and exhausting, but finally there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
I am alive today because eventually that person willingly removed themselves off my chest. With the help of soon to be over 75 million voters, the heavy weight of 3 ¾ years of chaos has been lifted. Today, I took a full deep breath and with tears in my eyes silently* and joyfully roared in happiness.
*I didn’t want to scare my neighbors once it was announced that Joe Biden was the President-elect and Kamala Harris will be the next Vice President, the first female and the first one of African American and Indian decent.
Breathe! Never lose hope! We will survive!
Winter S., Savory Sweet Neat