Breathe

I thought I’d be ready to light some fireworks in my yard, open champagne (even if noon ET is 10am here in Colorado), and let down my short, grey hair a bit.

I don’t feel that way. At least not quite yet.

More than that right now I just feel like Sam at the very end of Lord of the Rings, when he finally gets home and says, “Well, I’m back.” Then he goes inside, cracks open a can of beer, puts his feet up, and takes a deep and well-deserved breath. (Ok, I might have imagined that bit.)

The point is, at this moment I feel nothing more than just plain exhausted. The last four years have kept me, and I’m sure many of us, just stressed out for every waking hour. I don’t think I realised just how much this term has taken from us – how much of our souls it leached away bit by bit. Until now. Until “president” Trump left the White House for (I hope) the last time. And now it just kinda hit me just how much had been stolen.

(By the way, were the Trump kids actually crying on the tarmac at Andrews? Had it finally hit them that daddy didn’t give them pardons so they’re probably going to prison? Karma’s a bitch, kids.)

So, exhausted; but also relieved and hopeful for the future. I’m watching the preamble to the inauguration right now (it’s about an hour away; Pence and his missus just appeared). I’ll watch the proceedings then I’m taking a break, then I’ll start getting back to some kind of normal. I feel the stress easing even as I write this. But there’s a lot of stress, and I think it’s going to take a while for it all to go away. Days, maybe even weeks. We’ll see.

For now, I just need to breathe.