April 24, 2010- All the Hope and Trumpets

I grew up with a Limbaugh-loving dad and a liberal British mum. Unsurprisingly, I turned out a peace-loving Democrat.  In the last election I cheered with my fellow West Coast Gen-X hipsters at the prospect of a change, and celebrated in earnest when the country actually made it happen.   When I watched Obama's inauguration last year I felt like singing; all the hope and trumpets of the day welling up in a crescendo of gladness and anticipation.  It was exciting, and it felt like the beginning of something wonderful- everyone's goodwill flowing together into a river that would carry us forward.  There was a Kennedian spirit of volunteerism, a renewed sense of community, good intentions of bipartisanship, and the desire for friendship with all the world.  Everyone swelled with a pride that was tangible because of its rarity.  That moment on the country's stage was uniquely transcendent, and I think I will remember that feeling forever.

By now all the hope and trumpets have faded a bit, weighed down by inertia and the realities of Washington. Yet I can call up that moment's intensity in a heartbeat, and as soon as I tap into it I feel a sense of joy and possibility about the future.

In my own life I am similarly coasting off the highs of new beginnings...  the adventure of moving to Seattle, the romance of finding the dearest of men and starting life together, the excitement of rebuilding our 'house of dreams', and now the mothering of a tiny daughter.  The last few years have been like opening one birthday present after another, the joys spilling over each other in a bright tumble.  Today is a green and sparkling April day, with leaves dancing wildly in the breeze and new buds fairly bursting off the trees.  Spring is the perfect echo of how I feel now, at the beginning of so much life, the present full of blooms and promise.  These happy years have been a blur, infused with the wide-eyed starriness of new love and the special glowing fairydust of motherhood.  

I'm not naive enough to think this unfolding of daydreams will continue forever.  But this time of my life has been magical, and I don't ever want to lose the sense of dawn and gladness that has been woven into these days.  I hope the sense of wonder is still with me when the mundane of the everyday threatens to overwhelm.  I still have hope in our national future, no matter how slowly the wheels of change are turning.  And it won't be hard to keep celebrating the promise of my own days... in A's little laugh I will always hear the clear ring of trumpets, reminding me that there is hope and triumph in all our futures.