An American Election

I couldn’t write today. By the time the afternoon rolled around the winner was confirmed. I read a lot. Many friends were truly dismayed, many were upset, many fearful. Many shared their dread of having to tell their kids that Trump not Hillary had one when they woke up in the morning. That one struck a nerve. 

So when I got home I had a few drinks and thought. Mulled over what was happening. Sat and contemplated the world while watching a nature documentary on Americas West. 

It was a BBC one, and at the end of the program they had a “making of” section. They were trying to film coyotes in Death Valley. There’s an expression on the producers face when they arrive at their destination in the air conditioned car and open up the door. The expression was recognisable, I’ve made the exact same one. It was the reaction to feeling the Death Valley heat hitting your face for the first time. The dash gauge read 116 degrees, and at that temperature the heat becomes physical. You feel it fall across your skin and the hot air feels more like liquid than anything else. 

That sensation, of something non-physical actually manifesting itself and making physical contact – that was today. That how that loss felt. Not my country, not my vote, but I felt it none the less. I didn’t have to pop my kids hopes, or reassure them everything will be ok. But I felt it. 

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