47: Week 11

I almost didn't go. The date had been on my calendar for awhile, an entry to remind me of April 5th--Hands Off! I was tired. The weather seemed gloomy. I read too many scary posts about all the things to prepare in case of violent acts, arrests, problems that could occur. 

As this past week moved along, I thankfully ignored most of the news, just gathering bits of headlines and horrible acts in between lots of work, which again saved me from falling into the doom. And yes, high points existed  like Wisconsin, Cory Booker, court rulings. But Friday arrived, and while scrolling online, I came across the announcement from the Colorado Humanities & Center for the Book about their federal funding being cut. I do some volunteer work for their Colorado Book Awards program, so this announcement hit close. Several hours later, I made the mistake of checking our investments and gasped. Pissed off. Furious. 

Saturday morning arrived, and I headed to a work training, still not sure about whether I would want to go downtown for the march. When noon arrived, I still had doubts as I drove home flip flopping about whether to go. But once I parked the car, walked in the house and put my stuff down, I knew that it mattered. Nan and I hopped on a bus that had other folks headed to the protest, and their signs and faces made me realize this was where I needed to be. When we got to the Capitol, signs and people were everywhere. Hope in numbers. Community in chants. We wandered through the crowd, walked along the edge to take pictures of signs, and I never felt unsafe, never felt like trouble was nearby. This was democracy. This was protest. This was my freedom and right. I belonged.