Five in the afternoon on a rainy, chilly late January day. The day began with freezing rain and sleet layered an inch deep. I worked from home today, which helped me get a tedious task done, but has left me feeling restless. I do some dishes, make hot chocolate, settle back on the couch with the laptop. My living room is warmly lit, dining table cluttered, trees barely visible out the back window against the quickly darkening sky. Running in the back of my mind is a list of tasks not done—bills to pay, a resume to update, a sympathy card to write.
This morning I heard the scrape of snow shovel on pavement and looked out the window to see my next door neighbor and his 2-year-old son shoveling my front walk, the 2-year-old bundled up in fleece, and a wooly hat, and boots, bashing the icy snow with his shovel. A kind gesture—snow shoveling is not recommended for someone with a newly installed hip.
Just a few days ago, on a warm, sunny day, I took part in a local march and rally that echoed and supported the Women’s March in Washington. An exhilarating day. Throughout the day I stayed in touch via text and email with friends and family around the country doing the same thing, marching, rallying, representing.
Today my Facebook newsfeed is filled with dire reports about executive actions; Cabinet picks; presidential temper tantrums; requests for phone calls, letter writing, donations. I want to act, keep the momentum going, and at the same time I feel overwhelmed, heartsick, deeply afraid. The exhilaration of Saturday fades.
I stand outside, stretch, breathe deeply in the cold, damp air. Daily life goes on. I work and remind myself that the work I do, even the tedious tasks, benefits children, brings kindness and respect for learning to the classroom. I connect with friends near and far. I welcome kindness and look for opportunities to give in return. It’s not enough but it’s a start.
And this is the challenge, isn’t it? To stay grounded in our ordinary lives, to hold on to hope where we can find it, to build out and up from there.
At Home on Harlow 