Trapped. Suspended in time. Waiting and waiting.
Trying to not check updates. More waiting and waiting.
Trump is in the lead.
Sadness. Disbelief. Another 4 years of promoting hate. Another 4 years of feeling like I’m not part of the country I was born in. Another four years of making America great again for a select few.
There is still hope.
Trying not to mourn. But trying not to be too hopeful.
Waiting and waiting.
Days go by. Trapped.
Biden is close but not close. I can’t bear to check anymore.
I go for a run with my daughter. It feels good to run and laugh with my little girl in the stroller. I don’t check my phone. I just run and enjoy the moment.
We come back inside.
Biden has won.
I celebrate. I can’t believe it!
No, really. I can’t believe it. I’m too afraid of being disappointed to believe it. I check other news sources to be sure. Some aren’t calling it. Some are.
I stop celebrating.
Trapped again. Waiting again.
On Instagram, cities are rejoicing in the streets. Maybe it’s just those cities that are hopeful. I’m in the South. I know there will be no street celebrations here. I wait. I play with my daughter. I read.
Again, more people on Instagram are celebrating.
Can I celebrate?
When Biden and Harris give their speeches, I finally rejoice with my entire heart.
I tell my daughter that we have a new vice president, a woman. A woman of color.
“Hi! I love you.” She hugs the phone. “Why is she not talking to me?”
I say, “She is. She is talking to everyone.”
Finally, my hope and heart soar.