After Trump was elected, Mark and I had a conversation that went about like this:
One of us: We should go to the march in Washington.
The other: You betcha.
It was one of those moments of synchronization that holds a marriage together. Luckily, my girls don't know the meaning of "sexual assault," but I didn't want the girls to one day learn that a man who bragged about committing sexual assault was elected to the White House and think we just sat idly by while it happened. I think Mark believes this is all part of a sick ego-trip for Trump. Mark wasn't interested in letting that breeze by either. So we headed south.
I'm so glad we did. It was a really happy day. There was a general sense that together, we would survive. The girls did great, despite the crowds. They spent the next two weeks yelling "Show me what democracy looks like! This is what democracy looks like!" But even that was tolerable.
A month in....well, one can only fight so many fires at once and it's hard to keep up. Our latest effort will be to bake cookies for a friend's fund-raising concert. Cookies aren't much, in the face of it all, but if it makes the girls feel powerful, it will do.
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