Election Blues

As we inched closer to the election,

I allowed myself to acknowledge the possibility that he could win.

This altered reality consumed me with terror, and resulted in a week of sleepless nights.

Friends told me to relax, it wasn't going to happened,

but the fear expanded inside me like air stretching a balloon beyond it's capacity. 

I hoped the pop would be the release that came with Hillary's victory.

On election day, I enjoyed a tranquil morning, walking to the polling station in the canyon, and

connecting with neighbors during the hour wait.

I posted the obligatory "I Voted" selfie.

#Imwithher

Fingers dusted with flour, I juggled back to back conference calls with peeling apples.

What was more American than bringing a home baked pie to an election party?

In the afternoon I put on a pantsuit and drove to a network pitch.

All day I couldn't shake the unease lodged in my stomach.

I could barely get down a green juice.

I told myself it was just excitement, my physical being acknowledging this momentous historic event.

By early evening the foreboding swelled like a growing malignant tumor.

A tension headache hugged my skull like a helmet.

The night was young, returns just starting to come in, Hillary was ahead,

but the mood at my friend's party was already gloomy. 

The odds of HRC winning on the New York Times home page, and fivethirtyeight

started to change, in Trump's favor.

States that should have been blue were turning red.

Canada's immigration website crashed from panicked American's searching for a last minute plan B.

The futures market was dumping.

WFT was happening?

How did all of those statisticians get it wrong?

My phone hummed with texts from friends across the country.

We shared strategic info; if she loses WI it's over, and heart emojis.

I tried to find comfort in a glass of wine, but my stomach only churned more.

If we didn't cut into the Hillary victory cake, could we pretend this wasn't happening?

I left abruptly, craving solitude, and the capacity to understand this outcome.

At 2am EST, Podesta told the despondent supporters at the Javits Center to go home.

Not long after, powering down my laptop in bed, the headline flashed that he had won.