‘Change Is Gonna Come’

 

By Daniel H McCarty

“When I touched her body,                                                                                                                                      I believed she was God.                                                                                                                                           In the curves of her form                                                                                                                                          I found the birth of Man,                                                                                                                                     the creation of the world,                                                                                                                                  and the origin of all life.”
― Roman Payne

Donna  rolled over in bed to hit the alarm.

5:00 in the morning.

She was coming down from the worst nightmare of her life and a hellacious hangover   from two glasses of wine and election returns that had played out until almost midnight.  She just didn’t feel like walking today.  She glanced at the pink Tutu draped over the chair as she laced up her walking shoes.  There was so  little hope today.  She had so many counting on her.  She had to shake this off, their dreams were her dreams.

Out the door and into the street and ominous grey skies.  Was it just her imagination or was there a storm brewing in the Sierras?

Lone Cypress

 

Jo sipped her coffee and gazed out over the gardens from her perch on the upper deck. She was searching through the temporal archives for the perfect word.  Her life was words these days.  Not a bad space to be in but this day was a wash. She was coming up blank.  She would have to return another day.  Maybe hold a conch to her ear, listen to the beating of her own heart, somewhere in the past.   Maybe that was where she wanted to go.  The present was just so distorted.

Karen was surfing Facebook at 5:15 in the morning.   She had hit the pillow at 9:00 last night.  She had enough of the electoral process.  But retirement or not she had an internal clock that had been honed to a fine edge by 20 years working for the state.  She slapped her laptop shut at 5:30.  Enough was enough.  Molly was scratching at the door.

“Sorry little girl, this just isn’t a good day for the ladies.  What do you say, grab the Canon and head for the Delta or back to bed and cover up our heads and hope we wake up in another world?  I kept thinking that Mom would have been so happy.”

Karens Mother Kate at Douglas Aircraft WWII

 

Sharalee had been so hopeful.  The world was changing around her.  She thought back to her Mother and her Grandmother before her and how they struggled and persevered, even if that struggle had chipped away at their soul.  The day before she had sent a message of hope out to the world.  Today she felt that it was her soul under siege.

“I  walked to our polling place with 4 girls under the age of 12 and their parents. We were a beautiful parade of ladies celebrating the fact that we were able to choose between two women for President of the United States. After we voted and took pictures we walked/skipped and cheered for “Girl Power” to the pizzeria where I treated everyone to dinner to celebrate such a historic event in US history.” – Sharalee

Sharalee and Sierra – Girl Power

 

I am disappointed.  The election did not go the way I had hoped.  But for my fair friends  that felt a change in the air.  .  .  .  .well, they can speak for themselves.