It is November. The first snow of the season has fallen and it was enough to shut down schools in my neighborhood. The image typically associated with snow is of a silent landscape that is eerie and serene with a blanket of white and such. Today, the wind screamed around the eves. My children were loud and argumentative. And myself, I spent a good portion of my day laying on the couch trying not to start crying or otherwise making noises of discomfort, so I did not distress the boys overly much. I was not as successful as I would like to have been.
It is November. National Novel Writing Month is upon us and I, like the last eight years, have taken up the effort. I have been plagued with problems writing at every turn. The first week of the month has interruptions every time I turned around. Most of them were in some form of minor crisis that had to be handled. Having young children can be challenging, especially when they're having difficulty at school. On top of this, my health has been progressively getting worse over the last month and a half on the physical side of things, which has resulted in my simply feeling unwell with no motivation to write and the act of sitting at the desk to write being painful for me.
It is November. The presidential election has come and gone. I am still reeling with horror. I see the tendrils of hate growing stronger in my area. When I step out of the house wearing my scarves, people have begun to slow down when they drive past. Most everyone stares when they go by. Many of the expressions are suspicious and unkind. Some of them have been outright hostile. I think that my fair skin is the only thing that has kept there from being an incident... yet. I am angry but I am also afraid. I have begun to carry my aluminum cane with me even when my knees are not troubling me. Just in case I need a defensive weapon. I am avoiding family members because of their political inclinations and increasingly vocal expressions of xenophobia and such. My anxiety has been somewhat problematic. I try to ignore it, but the rising tide of bad news is making this hard.
If I had the ability, I would make the world more just with a sweeping gesture. If I had the capacity, I would be out in the streets, marching against the hatred that is spewed forth and actively taking a stance to physically defend the rights of they who can not do so. My heart breaks right now. I struggle with fear and then I feel guilt because by many standards, I am sheltered by my seeming to be 'normal' in many eyes and I can be 'safe.' I desperately want to be courageous. I desperately want to go and fight the good fight in the most literal of senses. I want to make things right.
But, right now, I am in pain and sick. Right now, I am at a loss for words beyond what I have said this evening. I am so horrified and frightened by what I see that I fear for my loved ones and all others who are in harms way. I am disgusted and repulsed by what I see from people who I had thought were so much more, so much better than what they have unfortunately proven to be.
Snow is still falling but it seems to be easing up. The highway department seems to have a better handle on road conditions. I'm fairly sure that school will be happening tomorrow. Life goes on. I try to treat my fears and horror as the scream of the wind - a warning but not an immanent danger from where I am right now. I'll also take some time to light candles and say prayers to all the gods. Because we need all the help we can get right now. Maybe the Giver of Strange Gifts will drop something of a sword to cut the Gordian knot that this mess is down the chimney when the Old Man is out doing his Yule run.