Untitled 2016-11-09
i don't know. this feels stupid and small. it feels like nothing. it feels like throwing pebbles at an enormous black wall. it feels like trying to appreciate a beautiful sunset over the ocean while on the beach hordes of men in body armor march into place, truncheons swinging. it feels like pausing to savor a slice of cake while your house is burning down around you.
i'm thankful that my mom started her new job at a luxury hotel chain yesterday. i'm thankful it's not his luxury hotel chain. i'm thankful for how happy she was when she was telling us about it yesterday evening over facetime. i'm thankful for how excited she was to have her own desk, for the smile on her face and the sound of her voice, quiet but proud, when she said, "i've never had my own desk before." i'm thankful that her bosses left fresh flowers in a vase on her desk for her first day.
i'm thankful that when i felt like i was dying last night, for the first time in a long time, maybe the worst time, though it is sometimes hard to remember the true intensity of our feelings retrospectively—the sands of time can smooth their edges—d was there to be strong and embrace me and comfort me. i'm thankful for her love, because i don't know what i would have done if didn't have it. i'm thankful for the safety of our bed, for the soft warmth of her touch. i'm thankful for the picture i have of her wearing her 'i voted' sticker after she voted.
i'm thankful for how bad i felt last night and how bad i feel right now, because i never want to forget what this feels like, which would be too easy. i'm thankful to try to write what this feels like here so the feeling doesn't fade, doesn't get forgotten, doesn't go away. i'm thankful to know that i share this feeling with you, that at least in that way today we are united.