We will talk about this year for a long time. The one where we were frustrated, angry, and exhausted. We will tell stories that reflect how we feel about our country: both anxious and hopeful.
In spite of it all, we will remember that there has been beauty in this year. The day I took a detour to the lake. And the fisherman cast his line over and over in some meditative dance that seemed to have little to do with actually catching a fish.
When the community pool sat empty and children couldn’t gather to swim. And they decided to camp in the backyard instead.
The times I took off for country roads, weaving through rows of cornstalks, passing barns and silos, the miles speeding by.
When I walked around the neighborhood looking for something to photograph and there it was—the asphalt covered with a blanket of mulberries.
These are not photos excavated from archives of times before, when things were good. No, these are pictures from real time, just now, when things are a mixture of both sweet and sad.
These moments of wonder make my heart swell. They are pictures that stop time, not really telling a story, but certainly suggesting one.
This land is my land.
How can I help make it a place of inclusion and equality? A place that embraces diversity?
A land made for you and me. I hope we can write a different story.
“To refuse to participate in the shaping of our future is to give it up. Do not be misled into passivity either by false security (they don’t mean me) or by despair (there’s nothing we can do). Each of us must find our work and do it.” – Audre Lorde