Archive - October 22, 2024

Magical Thinking      It was quiet. Too quiet. Too still. Not a leaf moving in the old maple on the boulevard and across the street, the neighbor’s flag hung limply over the TRUMP sign, was plastered over the sign. The thunderstorm that had swept through overnight had cleaned the sidewalks, filled the gutters, and, now she saw, covered the offensive sign, the American flag itself covering what needed to be covered.     She thought of taking a picture and sending it to…to somebody…the New York Times? the local Trump campaign office? the Harris-Walz campaign? with an appropriate title, “At Last” or “Democracy Saved.” Well, she’d have to think about that. Was that too bitter, too mean, or obvious? What was the word? She wasn’t used to these emotions, to the disdain, or was it the fear that rose immediately the day she saw Henry, the perfectly nice, friendly dad across the . . .