I dreamed about President Obama last night. We were standing side by side and I had my arm around his skinny little waist. I looked up at him (He’s way taller than I.) and I said, “I love you Obama.” I suppose it was too up close and personal for him to respond, “I love you back.”
He did, however, give me that famous sparkling smile.
I learned recently that I actually know a person or two who are going to PEOTUS Trump’s inauguration (or as I sometimes say in-nausea-ration.) I suppose any inauguration is historic and worth attending. This one is especially so because it’s the first time we’ve elected a fascist.
I’m seventy-three years old and have voted in every election since I came of age. This is the first time I have feared an inauguration would be the beginning of a very long four-year nightmare.
I pray I’m wrong.
Back On My Own 