Grateful

After spending the last four years in search of an exorcist, this nation now has turned its exhausted being, its bruised soul in the direction of one who fills us not so much with hope as he does a sense of calm. An antidote to the pulsing stomach ache that has seemed perpetually attached to our core.

We have been tethered to the psychiatrist's couch for so long, we have to remember what it felt like before it felt like this.Today we awake with the certain knowledge that come this afternoon all evidence of the stain upon the White House will have been removed, fumigated and disinfected. Tomorrow no longer but an illusion. For tomorrow is today.

I wish Mr. Biden well. I know the task before him is enormously hard as he must simultaneously attempt to heal us physically, emotionally and fiscally. It seems a job required  not of one man but many. The headwinds will be fierce, the path ahead strewn with landmines.The days to come testing the limits of our patience and his resolve. But, if we are lucky, and God knows we are entitled to a little good luck, we will begin ever slowly to regain our equilibrium.

For now, we are just grateful. Grateful that the moving truck has packed up the ego of Mr. Trump and is transporting it to his cave, to a place of perpetual darkness where he can do us less damage. Grateful that Mr. Rogers has moved into our Neighborhood, put on his sweater and his slippers and will soon settle in.

Grateful that the nightmare is over. And that we can finally open our eyes.