I put her to bed last night, tucked her in with her hope. She hasn’t woken yet. But she will.
When she comes down the stairs, rubbing her eyes, finding her balance, I’ll say.
I am so sorry, but I had it wrong. People are in pain. They needed more than I knew. They thought different than I thought.
I am humbled by this knowing.
That hope you had last night, it’s still there. I have it and others do, too.
So we will gather it up, as we have so many times before. Like seamstresses, we will lay it out flat. Trim and tuck, patch and sew.
Make beauty from these scraps.
While I do not know where the anger that brought us here will take us next, it is in the daylight now. We can see it, touch it, feel its heat. Do something with it instead of let it live in the darkness, untended.
There is so much we will need to do. And probably more coming. So we must prepare and be brave. So very brave.
I will hold your hand, and you will hold mine. We will be brave together.
And yes, someday, I promise. There will be a girl who is chosen. A lady President as you say. It’s just that she is still asleep, like you.
She hasn’t woken yet. But she will.