A Tuesday in February

A Tuesday in February…

It was a Tuesday in February. A warm front was sweeping through New England but nothing could drive the moisture and the cold from bones, nothing but sun in June and that wasn’t coming any time soon. Hearts were damp as well. Black, vile, hatred seeped through the recent Valentine’s day and was pouring over the cups of presidential nominations and good old-fashioned ignorance. Muslims and gay people were bearing the brunt but deep down everyone knew EVERYONE would pay/hurt/regret down the line. It is a trope that History is written by the winners. Morality is as much a byproduct of history as baseball statistics. David Bowie had died recently and wasn’t it he who penned “and these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations.” It was he. And on a Tuesday in February when their hate is keeping them warm and their ignorance and consultations radiate like embers you will shiver in the February cold to ice the swollen contusions of bigotry and discriminations in quiet, unassuming, solace-laden patience; patience that History will be written by the winners… of which you are one. Shiver winner, for February must turn to March and Tuesday rolls into Wednesday, and right now is pregnant, with the future, and with hope. Hope that…