Few things are forever 💫

On hope as an act (post-election reflection)

IG @hannahrowrites

Well, here we are. Post-election. In the words of Kamala Harris, “When we fight, we win. Sometimes the fight takes a while, but that doesn’t mean we won’t win. The important thing is to never stop trying to make the world a better place.”

Right now, I’m not quite there. Right now, I’m sad. I’m worried. I’m a little scared. I’ve been scouring my feeds and listening to NPR in bite-sized chunks, taking in little bits of analysis, exit polls, rationalization, explanation.

Really though, what I need now is levity, wine, and probably online shopping.

Later, I’ll take it all in. I’ll understand. I’ll stay engaged and fight the good fight, because I want my kids to grow up in a country where they both feel safe, happy, and free—where everyone is accepted, supported, and cared for.

I think we often personify hope as a glittering, sparkling light. Something we look toward, try to harness, and then tightly hold. But really, hope is a choice, an action. It’s gritty, tear-stained, and perhaps a little worse for wear. Hope has little cracks in her once-shiny exterior from disappointment and doubt. But still, she shows up. She presses on. She believes.

After the wine and the shopping, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll hope.

My favorite follow for all things politics is

Emily Amick

of Emily In Your Phone. Here are her Top 10 Takeaways from the election.

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Before the election, I was thinking a lot about how few things are forever.

Take this photo of my kids, 4 and almost 2. Even in this moment, I was already reminiscing about how fleeting their childhood really is. Next year, they’ll be so much bigger. I have so many photos of them on my phone I can’t delete, because I have to capture it, remember it.

Peak fall 🍂☀️

I crave sameness as a security blanket. Routines, structures, habits. Yep! Yearly traditions? Sign me up, the more the better. Keep the same cozy sweatshirt for 8 years, yes, I will do that. Use the same pen until all the ink runs out, and only then move on to a new one? Mhmmm. Rewatch Gilmore Girls instead of starting a new show? Probably should.

When the world is loud, scary, busy, and overstimulating, sameness means comfort. It means having *it all* figured out.

I partly chose teaching as a profession because of the clarity of it all: you get a teaching degree, you get a teaching job.¹ You teach, you earn a pension, you retire (early!). I never thought I would stop teaching. Yet, here I am, although still working in public education, not a classroom teacher.

I never thought I’d stop wearing skinny jeans, or get a master’s degree, or bob my hair, or talk about my feelings on the internet.

Can you remember something that absolutely devastated you? Can you remember that feeling? I can. I thought I would feel that way forever. But as time goes on, that boulder of grief turns into a tiny pebble you carry in your pocket. It’s always with you, and you’re changed from it, but you no longer bear its weight.

What we learn as we get older is that nothing ever stays the same, not entirely. While this realization would have terrified me in my twenties, I now find it quite calming. We are always in the process of becoming.

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I hope, I know, it won’t feel this way forever.

I know we, as a country, will make it through.

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⭐️ If you liked this post, you might also enjoy: Listen, let’s all be quitters.

⭐️ This non-aerosol dry shampoo helped me hold it together this week.

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1. I also, obviously, feel very called to teach. Teaching is one of those professions that becomes part of your identity.