The other night, I had a dream . . .
As I planned my exit from buying wares at the Home Depot, Donald Trump (I’m fairly certain it was just Donald Trump, as I saw nary a secret serviceman) motioned me aside. He stood behind a long table–taped to the front was a sign of bright blue construction paper, Make America Great Again! scribbled in magic marker. Something akin to a Girl Scout booth, only in place of cookie boxes, were cinnamon rolls atop white paper plates.
“Might I interest you in a cinnamon roll?” he said.
There was something in his voice–calm, unassuming–I’d not heard before. And for the briefest moment, it gave me hope.
“Why yes, I’d love one.” I said.
He handed me a plate; I took it. He nodded and smiled; I nodded and smiled in return. He posed the question to the person behind me; I continued on my way.
A few moments later, I relayed the encounter to a friend. She was aghast. Aghast I tell you!
“You took a cinnamon roll from Donald Trump!” she exclaimed.
“Of course I took it,” I said. “It was a cinnamon roll!”
What does it all mean, you ask? Yeah, I’m not entirely sure.
It probably has something to do with the fact that I cannot wrap my head around so many people, so excited for Trump’s presidency. I cannot fathom how they pay no mind to so many red flags. So many . . .
On the flip-side, I’m appalled with the bullies. A bully is a bully; it doesn’t matter who you are, where you come from, or why you use fear and intimidation to sway others. And the whole #notmypresident bit? Ridiculous. As citizens of the United States of America, as of today, he is our president. Like it, or not. We either jump ship or we buckle down and try to find a way to row the boat, together.
Also, junk food is the only thing getting me through this winter. So, there’s that.
Needless to say, I hope (and pray) we do learn to work together; I hope we find a way to cross party lines and see people. I hope we find ways to do our part. And I hope with all my might, President Trump proves me wrong.
With that, here’s the to the weekend–and the start of the next four years; may it be sweet, indeed . . .