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Of all of the moments I have had as a parent, few have been more satisfying than watching my daughter fall whilst riding her bicycle. While that may sound harsh, I do not revel in seeing her in pain or disappointed; no, my happiness came when, after a moment of sniffling and checking to make sure that the scrape on her leg or elbow was not serious, she picked herself and her bicycle up, climbed back on, and proceeded to ride some more, never giving up, and proceeding down the path. I mention this because for all of my worries about her future, I am a bit more sanguine than I should be, since if she can pick herself up after a mishap at a mere 7 years old, she certainly has the innerworkings to survive (and thrive) in any environment she may face as she grows older. 

The same should apply to us in the wake of the recent election. Yes, we lost and they won. That, sadly, is beyond dispute. But what next? How and what do we do to start the clock over? How do we reset and begin anew? What do we do with the first second of the new era, in the hopes of doing what needs to be done to push back statism? Will you give up? Will you just say, “fuck it”? Or, will you be like a 7 year old on her bike and get back up and continue the fight, albeit under a new set of rules?

Honestly, I have no fucking clue what to do next. I have no fucking clue how to handle the first second of the first minute of the new era we are in. But I can guaranfuckingtee you this, I’ll get back on that bicycle and plow ahead on my own if I fucking have to, learning along the way what needs to be done next and how to apply it. I will do this steeled by words I came across this week while looking for something else, though I loved them. These were the words of Pope John XXIII as Vatican II rolled along in an effort to inspire the bishops and priests in attendance:

Consult not your fears
but your hopes and your dreams.
Think not about your frustrations,
but about your unfulfilled potential.
Concern yourself not
with what you tried and failed in,
but with what it is still possible
for you to do

Yes, what is still possible. How can I look the child who pulls herself up off the ground in the eye and quit? How can I let defeatism and frustration get in the way? How can I stifle her hopes and dreams by not fighting for them? And how can you do the same for those you care for? How can you look in the mirror and admit defeat and refuse to look to what is still possible, albeit in trying circumstances? That is how I have picked myself up off the floor after the defeat a few weeks ago. And I hope you do the same.

To everyone out there, I have no idea where this road will take all of us, but I promise you this: I will not leave you stranded if you pick yourself up, get back on that bicycle, and restart your clocks with me. I also promise this to be one hell of a ride.

And as for the lefties spiking the football, let me add something for you:

FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! Fuck you persistently and forever with the fuckshaft of freedom. Fuck you for thinking I will just quit and go the fuck away. Fuck you for thinking I will let you ruin the future without continuing to fight. Fuck you for thinking you can defeat my daughter with challenges and obstacles, not knowing like I do what she is made of. And fucking the fuckstars above fuck you for thinking this is the end, rather than the beginning of a new era. 

You think it’s over? Jumpfuck you with a jumpingbean loaded with radioactive fucksauce. 

You think I’ll quit and give up to you, so long as I can maintain sentience? Sensofuck you silly.

You think I’ll betray everything I hold dear just because you think you have it all? Buglefuck you with a broken bottle.

No, I will not fucking quit. I will not admit defeat, no matter the setbacks. And I will fucking not let you make the future more difficult without a fight. You may have fucking won this one, but the clock starts anew as we try to push back. So fuck you, and go to hell along the way.