wild applause
It’s not the first night that I’ve clapped for the healthcare workers who are in front of all of this. When the city claps each night at…
It’s not the first night that I’ve clapped for the healthcare workers who are in front of all of this. When the city claps each night at 7pm, we open the windows wider to let ourselves out. Tonight, I clapped while hanging out the top of the kitchen window in the back of the apartment. I stood on the windowsill, tiptoeing precariously with my big drink and the teakettle and the plants and the science experiment all at my feet. I pulled down the window as far as it goes, as far as the window guards will allow me to stick my head out, and I clapped hard. I hollered loudly, like I do when I see a great rock show, like I do when I see Ailey perform, like when I watched American Utopia last fall, like when I watch the talent show at our public school which was cancelled this year. I yelled loud and hard and clapped hard and loud until my hands hurt from clapping and this is different then the hand-washing kind of hurt at the end of the day. It felt good. Clapping until I was crying, until my voice got caught in my throat and it made me quiet so that all I had were my tired hands hanging out the top of the window, my feet balancing.
I can only help with my two hands right now. With my clapping. When we applaud, we are saying bravo, thank you, we see you, we love you, thank you, thank you, thank you for trying so hard to save us.
*This image is made by the incredible collage artist Janna Dorothy. I borrowed it so I can look at it one trillion times per day. Please take a look at her gorgeous work.