Herself speaks.
Approximately four years and a week or two ago, I sat on a bench in a lovely wooded area and contemplated the upcoming election. My companion, who was (and still is) no fan of Hillary Rodham Clinton, stated with just a tinge of bitterness:
I'm convinced that she's already won, they just haven't told us yet.
I think about that moment even now.
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I will forever remember exactly where I was standing when I realized that that man would win the 2016 election. Blood run cold. Crushed. The Horror.
And the past four years have been even worse that I could possibly have imagined at that point.
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I voted early -- a couple of weeks ago, with mask on, migraine present, trying not to breathe other people's air, tears in my eyes.
I found the tiniest ember of hope when I woke up this morning. I am afraid to nurture it. I cannot watch the news, cannot not watch the news. It is an agony.
There may not be a definitive result today. Or for days. I can't even think about it going to the Supreme Court, because I cannot bear to think of the Supreme Court right now.
Have mercy, Universe.
We shall see what happens.
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