Yesterday, I fell asleep on our floor between the dining area and the babys new play pen. I did this because I was tired and since we had gone to the beach, there was a good chance I was tracking sand into the house. And as we know from the prequels, sand gets everywhere.
As a result of the midday nap, I stayed up all night thinking about the future. Not necessarily mine; mine will mostly be filled with spreadsheets, weight-loss and throwing kisses at the wee baby, Shelby. The Future with a capital F. Maybe it’s because I keep seeing ads for the West Wing reunion (what’s next?) or maybe because like everyone else, I’m watching our country come apart at the seams.
I’m preoccupied with the future because I want to believe that our best days are ahead of us. I’m hopeful as I look forward because like many others, I’m growing disenchanted with the past. I can feel inside myself a swelling refusal to believe that the good ol’ days could have been that good when they were had at someone else’s expense. And as I watch millions of voices rising up on behalf of those who need it most, I’m not depressed, I’m proud. I’m proud of my country, not necessarily for our history, but the future that we are forging through disruption and compassion.
And I think disruption is the operative word. In a broken system, the only language reform can take is disruption. You need people who are willing to say, “umm, that’s not ok,” or “can we do things differently this time,” or bang on the tables and rattle the walls, demanding change. It’s an uncomfortable position to be in and a wearisome responsibility to bear, but I see people taking it upon their shoulders everyday to make a better world for all people. How do you not get sentimental about the world that these people will help to build for us, our children and their children?
I insist on a stubborn optimism that says, no matter what 2020 looks like, we will make 2021 better than 2019. We’ve lost many heroes this year, but we can’t let the loss of our heroes cast a cloud that darkens the brightness of their legacies. Sure, we can stay up at night, tossing and turning, scrolling through the horrors of the day, but then, before we fall asleep we ought to think, and dream in our waning moments about what tomorrow CAN look like. We ought to spend just a little bit of time thinking about what’s next.