March For Our Lives, 1

“…and for fuck’s sake, Congress, please impeach that lunatic” said her sign.

“I love your sign” I called to her. She inched closer.

“But Pence is worse” said another woman standing nearby in the crowd.

3 strangers. Middle aged women. Now temporary friends. A Pence vs Trump debate ensued.

“But these kids. Amazing. I can’t stop crying.” Said the sign woman. On that we all agreed. Unequivocally. Unanimously. Whole-heartedly. With Hope.

March For Our Lives

The parents wearing matching orange shirts with “Enough” blazing across their chests danced to the blasting music (was it Michael Jackson?) in the middle of a crowd of nearly a million people (maybe more) while their preteen daughter with braces and her own matching orange shirt averted her eyes. She pretended to be invisible.

“Yes, we are your parents” the mom said, hugging her daughter while still dancing. The daughter’s crimson face was an embarrassment gauge.

“They are actually really cool” I whispered to the girl. “You’ll know that later.” She looked away. What do I know.

March For Our Lives

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