What Is That in Your Hand?

What am I holding onto for dear life, certain that this one thing is going to get me wherever it is I’m going? Is it my writing? My art? My marriage? My parenthood? My home? My friends? My dorky humor?

I have a feeling whatever it is has the potential to become the very thing I’m afraid of. 

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To My Trump-Fearing Friends: Fear Not.

I had it all played out. Hordes of rioters would loot and burn the cities and then turn to the countryside. To us. I constantly imagined where we would hide. How we would survive. I canned shelves of vegetables and bought staples in bulk, imagining how my foresight might save our lives.