Here comes the cry part

Let’s start with the downer and get it over with: I cried. A big bunch.

Am I short on sleep? Yes. Are my kids a bit of a mess? Sure. Is my body constantly ebbing and flowing with an unpredictable yet relentless monthly surge of hormones that make me wish for the sweet, sweet release of postmenopause? Also yes. But that’s beside the point.

It was Andrew Cuomo what made me cry.

After Trump tweeted that we’d all be partying and hunting for Easter eggs with the unwashed masses before you can say “genocide,” Cuomo came in like a damn sexy, exhausted superhero, talking about nuanced solutions to a complex problem. He referenced advice from experts. He yelled at FEMA. He told us he was worried about our mothers. Your mother! My mother! I mean, come on.

He made me cry for the loss of something I never even knew I’d had in the first place: faith in our leadership. This unspoken feeling of security in the knowledge that your Commander-in-Chief would rather you and thousands of your countrymen don’t die preventable and meaningless deaths. It’s not a lot to ask, and I don’t really recall it ever being explicitly requested. And for that reason, I suppose I’ve taken it for granted until now. It’s a feeling that was so deeply ingrained that it took three-and-a-half years of a miserable presidency and an unprecedented global crisis to notice it had gone missing. And I didn’t realize it had gone missing until I found it again, or at least a piece of it.

As Americans, we are raised to think of ourselves as free to the core. We’re governed, surely, but we’re still free! Ya know? Like stallions or wild boars or housecats or some other kind of animal that does not give one single, solitary fuck (I don’t know a lot about animals). Only, we aren’t. When the chips are down, we’re small and helpless. We’re not mighty housecats. We’re roaches about to be zipped into one of those exterminator circus tents. We confused freedom with power, it turns out. Are you free to go out when everyone is begging you to stay in? Yep. Am I free to shake my fist and yell at everyone taking up the middle of the sidewalk? Also yes (though inadvisable). Can we help steer our country away from certain disaster? Well, no. Can we stop the guy who is threatening to do something that literally not one other world leader thinks is wise? Even the crazy ones? Nope again.

So a politician made me made me shed real, hot tears of gratitude and relief, and now I’m going to sign up for the next season of “The Bachelor: Governor Edition” (my husband understands and I will certainly be there for the right reasons). Cuomo has stepped up as a leader and I never knew until now how badly we all need one of those in our lives. Ultimately, I’m still terrified. He’s not the guy in charge. We still don’t have one of those. But at least now I know what I want and what to cling to (or cry over) while this all continues to unfold. This is a thought without a clear ending, and that’s not just because at this moment I’m halfway through my Tuesday bottle of Chardonnay and I only just found out that it isn’t still Monday. It’s just a thought for today, for this moment, because that’s as far as I can seem to make it.