The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.
William Ross Wallace
The days of winter continue. The holidays are long over and daily life unfolds, one day much like another as the hours pass and the snow continues to fall. The beauty outside my window is peaceful and centering. The pine trees stand tall and quiet. I am quite content to stay indoors and admire the landscape. I am in good company with my books and my writing.
Life before the pandemic is a past chapter, a slice of history that affected the world. The pandemic has further exposed a divided nation. I was horrified last year as I watched the mob invade the capital. It was a fluke that I was watching television that morning. The feeling in my gut was like the one I had on 9/11 when the towers in New York were crumbling. Disbelief. Shock. Now voting laws are being manipulated in several states. The laws that restrict women's health choices are also being implemented. This is deeply troubling and I fear a slippery slope towards the demise of democracy as we know it.
What are we creating for our grandchildren and great-grandchildren? Will my granddaughters have the same choices I did? That remains to be seen, and it's beginning to feel dystopian.
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