I was never convinced that Trump would win re-election. I was never convinced 100% that he would lose, but I was 99% convinced he would lose a free and fair election. Even in the fraught 72 hours after the polls closed, I was pretty sure Biden was going to win, it was really just a question as to whether he would win Georgia and possibly North Carolina.
Even as the Beerbelly Putsch raged in the halls of the Capitol, I was convinced yesterday would happen. We are seeing a minority of zealots on the wrong side of history acting out tantrums, not a coherent, reality-based movement to seize power.
Nevertheless, I've found myself tearing up at various moments, beginning with the lovely and brief service for the dead on Tuesday night. The shuddering relief at having a president who cares about 400,000+ dead Americans isn't something we should have to feel. For the first time in four years, we are not a country that purposelessly traumatizes children to stop their parents from fleeing a different form of violence. For the first time in four years, we have a president who can grieve with us. For the first time in four years, we have a president who knows what poetry sounds like.
Everything will not be great. The legacy of Trumpism will have to be unraveled and stamped out. But as someone tweeted, when you saw the extraordinary production values of the inaugural festivities last night, you saw a return to even basic stage management competency. Unsurprisingly, we discover that there was no central plan for vaccine distribution; there will be one soon.
Feels better.
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