I'm sorry, but I'm going to tell you about a dream I had last night. It was simply that it was 2024 and Trump was elected. The shock of it wasn't new to me. It was the same as the death of someone close to me. I have experienced the geography of grief enough to know that the initial shock isn't the worst part. It's the many, many days that follow, the ever-present dull awareness of irretrievable loss. Or, maybe worse, a moment of forgetting, and then remembering again.
When I couldn't get back to sleep, I began imagining Kevin McCarthy's plane ride from DC to Florida those few days after Jan 6. He would have rehearsed, polished his just-right humility, decided on the most potent words of flattery, flashed some anger over the stollen election. What I most wonder is could he feel his soul slipping away? As maybe a touch of indigestion, or a slight strain in his back. Or does a soul just go away, silent and unobserved, not made of any earthly matter at all?
I'm sorry, but I'm going to tell you about a dream I had last night. It was simply that it was 2024 and Trump was elected. The shock of it wasn't new to me. It was the same as the death of someone close to me. I have experienced the geography of grief enough to know that the initial shock isn't the worst part. It's the many, many days that follow, the ever-present dull awareness of irretrievable loss. Or, maybe worse, a moment of forgetting, and then remembering again.
When I couldn't get back to sleep, I began imagining Kevin McCarthy's plane ride from DC to Florida those few days after Jan 6. He would have rehearsed, polished his just-right humility, decided on the most potent words of flattery, flashed some anger over the stollen election. What I most wonder is could he feel his soul slipping away? As maybe a touch of indigestion, or a slight strain in his back. Or does a soul just go away, silent and unobserved, not made of any earthly matter at all?