Photograph from Pinterest
Dear Mr. President,
The other day, one of my eyelashes fell out and lay on my cheek. My coworker let me know. I carefully picked it off, put it on my fingertip, and made a wish.
I am almost 38 years old. I have two beautiful kids, a funny and smart, supportive husband. I’m healthy, my own original family and in-laws are doing well. I have a good job. We have a wonderful circle of friends and a neighborhood that looks out for each other.
As I sit from my comfortable bubble, I watch around me as the most vulnerable fall.
If you look at the past few blogs in this Letters2Trump series alone, there are so many disheartening examples of your havoc being wreaked upon our country; and the ripple effects of your disruption spread across the world.
The “Tax Cuts and Jobs Act” that was quickly signed into law not because it’s the right thing to do, but because you felt it was more important to have something accomplished before the year’s end. Now, automatic spending cuts to Medicare and other programs will take immediate effect…most likely causing chaos. The undercutting comments you make towards women…most recently a sexually suggestive tweet about Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand. You as president declaring Jerusalem the capital of Israel, completely undermining and disregarding a whole population of people who are just like us…but simply believe something different. Leading to riots by the Palestinians. Casting aside years of careful and thoughtful diplomacy in the U.N., stomping around as if the world is your playground.
And the havoc – though perhaps not as dramatic – is quietly emerging in the places where we should feel the safest…in our homes.
The other day, I had a disturbing conversation with a family member on my husband’s side who is near and dear to me. She is in her 80s. She is set in her ways. She is a matriarch and a wonderful woman. And – she likes you. When I asked her why, the only thing she could come up with was that the Dow is up.
Then she proceeded to refer to former President Obama as “Sambo.” I didn’t get the reference but quickly figured out it was a racist slur. Before you, I had never heard her say such a thing.
In this time of love and light, I am hearing angry and upset conversations. I worry that our kids look to you as an example, are emboldened by your negligent meanness. I worry that your flippant arrogance is reopening delicate wounds that may never heal again.
I held the eyelash on my fingertip. When I closed my eyes and made my wish, there was only one thing I could do.
I wished for peace and kindness.
Merry Christmas, Mr. President.