The first day after the election, I couldn’t imagine that Biden won. When my mind went to the possibility, I could feel the pressure of heavy tears against my eyes, as if an onion in its prime had been waved under my nose. I didn’t want to cry—it seemed so overly dramatic. But that’s how I felt. That if it were really true, that we wouldn’t have to live in a country that had been taken over by a mad man and his minions (who BROUGHT UP these people?), who routinely debased everyone, would no longer be in control. That if it were really true, it meant we wouldn’t be moving to Portugal, and the relief felt like a weightlessness, as if I was flying and the plane had just lifted off.
We had been planning to leave. I know people were always saying that, but I was serious. I had spent six months figuring out the biggest stumbling block—how to transport six cats to another country—and exploring every avenue from chartered flights, to the Queen Mary II (which BTW in September of this year, had been on pause for a while, and they thought they might start ticketing again in November for transatlantic sojourns in 2022!) We had finally determined that all the cats would have to be hand transported and we would just be taking a bunch of friends and family on a flight or two to Portugal. The houses I was planning on renting, where in the Algarve—near six golf courses, information about the different visas, health insurance—for the time I spent on this, I could’ve filmed another documentary!
Maybe I’m just seeing the silver lining out of a Category 5 hurricane, but the Drumfites’ drip-drip-drip assault on Biden’s win actually offered me a way to ease into a dream from a nightmare. I almost think if it hadn’t gone this way, I would’ve been walking around in tears for days—it’s like going from freezing cold to warm—it takes its toll on one’s heart.
But if you’ve ever held on to a something like a metal railing for a long period of time, when you try to open your hand—it hurts, your fingers are cramped in position. That’s how I feel about opening up my mind and heart to the knowledge that this long nightmare may, very soon, begin to recede. That’s not to say that I imagine this broken country will miraculously be soothed. No, I think we’re past that. But I do believe I can start to mentally and emotionally heal from the last four years, with David, my cats, my posse, my friends, and my Lindt chocolate around me, and for that I am so very grateful.
