Yesterday was a day of settling back in at home after two weeks with family in Oakland—unpacking and grocery shopping and organizing and making lists—all accompanied by sudden, electric squalls of wind and rain. And of celebration. Even with the storm, optimism lightened the air, and people gathered on street corners with signs and cheers, all of us driving by and honking and cheering, too.

Later in the afternoon, I watched President-elect Joe Biden and Vice President-elect Kamala Harris speak at a celebration in Wilmington, DE, cars parked as if in a drive-in movie and such a rowdy, joyous noise of celebration. When Kamala spoke (is it OK for me to address her with just her first name? I feel like I know her; Joe, too, but then we’ve known Joe for a long, long time)—when Kamala spoke, I wept. And I wasn’t alone. She took to the stage, radiant in her white suit, shining—a Black/Asian-American woman on that stage, not as “wife of…” but as Vice President-elect of the United States! Our beautiful, smart, bright, smiling, capable—more than that—powerful and fierce Vice President-elect.

Someone reminded me that when Joe Biden makes his State of the Union address in 2021, two women will be on that podium with him: the Vice President and the Speaker of the House.

We don’t change suddenly—snap—like that; we change incrementally. We are that enormous ship in the ocean the cannot turn on a dime. But let us proceed to aim ourselves in the right direction, a new direction, not leaving it all behind, but not taking it all with us either. Leaving space, making room for the new, the better, the best of us.

It will be something to break out of the habit of needing to read the news early in the day and check in frequently. But I imagine that can happen slowly, too, especially as the reality of a new administration begins to take its place and we are not whip-lashed by daily lies and profane and ugly utterances from the White House, and effective measures are taken to control the pandemic are in order. That, too, will be part of our healing. It’s as if the pandemic has been telling us how broken we are.

This morning before writing, I read about the red-spotted newt in Aimee Nezhukumatathil’s beautiful book, World of Wonders, and their instinctual knowledge of home. These amazing newts can read the stars and follow navigational patterns and electromagnetic signals with some kind of creature mojo and always return to their ancestral home. I believe we know our way home, too, and can return there if we follow our instinctual knowledge of love and kindness and generosity of spirit.

Of course we’ve a long way to go and a very bumpy ride ahead of us. So let’s buckle up and enter the day. Soon the heat will need to be turned on and I need to dust the vents and take down the warmer clothes. Change is coming.