the one

 

me and Nelly, 1951 

I'm trying to put my writing boots on the ground, but circumstances swirl and conspire against it.

I have to "go to" the time and place I'm writing about and it takes full focus. Prolonged concentration. 

Has anyone got a couple gallons of that to spare? Didn't think so.

At this moment, 99% of the ballots in GA have been counted. 49.2% for Biden and 49.6% for the incumbent. It probably won't be Georgia that decides the outcome of the election. But to think it might, by such a slim margin.

I requested an absentee ballot partly due to COVID concerns, but mostly because I wanted to hurry up and have my say. Vote as early as I could. I filled it out and took it to voter registration way back in the middle of October. Dropped it into the formidable-looking hopper outside while people cued up outside on the first days of early voting. My county did the blue team proud. 58%.

Thinking about it now, my ballot could have been one of the last ones counted, buried at the bottom of the dropbox the way it was. 

My thoughts are about how to broach the "Why..." conversations with people that matter to me. 

How do we move forward because there is no going back, the way back being guarded by that miserable 800 lb. gorilla who must surely be sick of that job by now. Aching to retire. Like me.