Sorry, we're open!

U.P. Michigan border, November 21st, 2016

I haven't been writing much lately, for reasons both specific and global. For those who have asked, yes, thank you, I'm okay. And yes, Bring Limes is still open for business. Which is to say there's still a corner of my brain looking upward and outward. Despite the recent goings on, I'm still full of hope.

I realize hope, these days, could be construed as a deliberate act of obstinance or maybe even ignorance. In my case, though, it's neither. Optimism isn't a choice I've made (that would be giving my decision-making abilities way too much credit). Instead, for me anyway, hope is like a factory-installed airbag: it's just there when the trees get unnervingly close.

I do have to say, it's been deploying like a mofo lately.

In the days following the election, I wrote a lengthy piece which, I don't know, I just ended up losing interest in. Hitting "delete" on the whole wordpile was the highlight of my week. 

At the time, my Facebook newsfeed was, and still is, a weirdly sputtering gurgle of nervous energy, bold proclamations, and attempts at "perspective." I'll be honest, I can hardly stand to look at it. Of course I know I brought it on myself. Over time I shaped my social media stream into a recirculating flow of my own worldview: a gentle rivulet of rum recipes, island destinations, left-leaning bon mots, and general carpe diem feel-goodery. 

And then, over the course of a Tuesday evening, things changed. My feed shifted into just two types of posts:

1. Fellow liberals, with their shit understandably freaked, trying to recombobulate their entire sense of reality – while at the same time unfriending with abandon, staying strong for others, and planning their escape.
2. A barrage of links to every "Best Islands To Live On" article that's been written in the last decade. 

Obviously these two veins weren't a coincidence. For half the country, it was fight or flight time. And, as many were quick to point out, one-way flights are cheap. 

I'm guessing, though, that not too many of those flights ever got booked. Since then, many people I know have chosen to fight instead: against the racism, the sexism, the nationalism – all the ism's in the ism schism game. For others, there's been a gradual return to normal, or at least a jittery facsimile thereof. 

For others still, myself included, we're somewhere in between. Wondering what facsimile of normal we might be able to muster in these strange days. Figuring out how we can fight, while at the same time looking forward. And upward. And outward.

For me, at least, that's brought me back here. 

Sorry, we're open!