In 2016, I had no doubt that Hillary Clinton would win the general election. By a lot. I regretted not being one of the supporters to gather at Wellesley, my alma mater and Clinton’s, to celebrate.
In 2016, I had a three-month old baby I was learning to care for. I had a job I didn’t care for. I had a newish marriage and no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up.
In 2016, I was afraid. All the time. I could not laugh at Trump’s stupidity because it felt calculated, real, and specifically aimed at ruining everything I cared about.
In 2024, I had a lot of doubt that Kamala Harris could win the general election, having entered it so late. I wanted to believe my country would choose her, but when I heard of the gathering at Howard University on election night, I thought it would be a hard place to be.
In 2024, I have an eight-year-old girl I am learning to care for, but one who has become in many ways her own woman, one whom I learn from every day. I have an oldish marriage and every idea what I want to be when I grow up.
In 2024, I will be courageous. The incoming administration will not get to live rent-free in my head. I will focus on the important things and I will consider how I, personally, can help make positive change.
In 2024, I am writing my heart, my soul, my spirit, every day. I am taking each day like it is precisely what it is: a day for which I will be grateful.