Seven days ago, few of us would imagine that Egypt was on the edge of revolution. Egyptians, fed by the promise emanating from Tunisia, where protests led to the ouster of despot-in-chief a couple weeks ago, have taken to the streets in many of Egypts’s provinces demanding more freedom and more opportunities and for President Mubarak to take an extended, lifelong vacation. It’s hopeful and terrifying to watch the footage. The desire for social change, for fair representation and the menace of violence are like twins who are nothing like one another but can’t survive without one another.
A week ago, I was looking forward to Obama’s State of the Union Adress, in part because I geek out when he speaks. I still believe in him, even though he hasn’t been the best boyfriend to us progressives. He hit the right notes for the country, apparently, and his poll numbers keep going up, much to the consternation of the Republicans.
Last Friday, I had no idea that CNN would cover the Tea Party response to the State of the Union in full, nor how entertaining Michelle Bachmann’s idiocy would be. She makes me feel so smart. If she can be a Senator, so could I!
Friends of mine, a couple, split this week, and I’m not sure they knew it would end last week. Another friend’s partner is upset with her over something silly, has asked for space to figure out if moving forward is possible, and is refusing to talk. Last week, she thought she was in a great relationship.
The February issue of the Sun came out last Thursday, with my very first published work on pages 33-34. I repeat every word of praise anyone has given me for this unexpected and exciting thing, even when I have shoved the magazine in front of friends and acquaintances and forced them to celebrate with me. I know that I have multitudes of rejections ahead of me in this writer’s life I have embarked on, and I will need every shred of confirmation that my writing has some tangible value.
Last week, I had to settle for brief, sweet kid updates on the phone with my nieces, but I got to spend last night with them and it’s the most fun I’ve had with my girls in ages. They were getting along, they were gregarious and cheerful and affectionate. We made guacamole and talked and I think what set the night apart from many others is I got a glimpse of our future. Of them being not seven and four years old, but ten and seven or thirteen and ten. We’ll bond and talk and love one another fiercely. I do miss their baby and toddler days, the way Kaia used to call me AnMan and Avie would quietly mumble, “AuntieMantie,” the way their syllables multiplied to words to sentences and whole, elaborate, made-up stories, just for my benefit. But last night, the three of us climbed into the tender cradle that female relationships are, and that I saw that as my nieces grow older, I have the great honor to shows them the profound haven of being loved by non-mom women. I couldn’t have predicted seeing into my future one week ago.
It can take so little time for things to change — and if I’d chosen to go to bed earlier, I may have lost all of this momentous newness to history. May all the change sweeping through so many millions of lives this day bring about only more peace, more love, and more strength.