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“This is the last day we can live in complete ignorance of our future.”
This was the text I sent my friend as we discussed our fears about election day. After making sure I had all my grocery shopping done, meals all prepped in the fridge and kid safely asleep, we talked about ways to cope with the stress of the next few weeks. About what anxieties we had and trying to convince each other how unrealistic they were. It was a cold comfort, seeing as grocery stores and banks across the city have boarded up there windows in preparations for rioting and protests.
What a chilling sight, out for a walk with my five year old in our masks. Streets nearly deserted, save a lone Trump supporter and an abnormally high amount of police officers, windows to stores and business covered in plywood, and all the while my kids asking impossible questions. “When will the virus go away? Why are the windows covered? Why are there a lot of police men?”
And then the worst one of them all: “Why would anyone vote for a monster?”
Enter me shushing him, fear of the notably unstable mental state of Trump’s supporters filling my veins with ice. What if that man heard my kid? What if he came over to us and started harassing us? What would I do if he had a gun?
