Warning Lights Are Flashing
Conversations I keep turning over in my head
"Things are shitty right now."
"Fucking shitty," he added.
“Yes, fucking shitty," I agreed.
"I don't know what I'm going to do if I lose my Social Security and VA benefits. These are people who have no qualms about kicking people out of nursing homes. I might need to get two or three jobs."
"You are 82. You shouldn't have to get any jobs. And I hope that doesn't happen, but if it does, we'll cross that bridge. You have an amazing support network of people who love you. We will take care of you."
"Any travel plans coming up?"
"No. I'd like to go down to NYC, but I'm scared."
"Environmentally? Or health-wise? Or politically?"
"Scared of crazy people doing crazy shit out of the blue. Scared of getting arrested for no reason."
The conversations turn around in my mind even as we have them. There is no angle, no orientation, no perspective that makes it not fucking shitty, nothing that alleviates the cruelty, no glimmer that relieves my rage and feelings of helplessness.
"Hey, next time you're feeling isolated, like you just need to talk to a person, call us. Anytime. We do not need to schedule dinner in advance to see each other."
"Thanks, Kiddo."
"It's the only thing I feel like I have any control over."
We hug next to his car before he climbs in and drives off down the dusky suburban street.
I rejoin my wife and our little dog and hit the crosswalk button. A disembodied voice rings into the evening,
"Warning lights are flashing. Warning lights are flashing."
If only more people would heed them, slow down, and care.
Lovely, and so on point. I could barely sleep last night thinking of ICE abductions.
Yes. A friend I met up with this week is canceling a trip she and her partner had out of the country. I'm afraid of losing my healthcare or it becoming so affordable we can't afford anything else. America is definitely not feeling great again. I remember when it felt great. This is not that.