HISTORY
11.3.20
Madre, calmete.
You carry tomorrow’s load with today’s strength. Trying so hard to merge two days into one. And who am I kidding, we all are. That’s why we’re here, right? Drinking whiskey so we can inch tomorrow a little closer from its timeline. It’s silly, the whimsy of todays whiskey doesn’t quench the thirst of the morning, the same way this anxiety doesn’t empty tomorrow of it’s sorrow.
It empties today of it’s strength.
So we hold each other here. In the goodness of what we know won’t change. Friendships, love affairs, the music that makes us dance even if time has put it on some time-out-shelf.
The way mothers just know how stories will play out for their daughters. It must be frustrating not being able to predict what our country will do to our family.