so this morning--
when the chief justice at the cold capitol in washington, dc, spoke and said will you please stand
(before a moment I will tell to persons not yet of this earth but someday)--
in a crowded room of college kids down in north carolina,
we started to stand.
one person and then another, and--
there was a slight murmur of amusement, chuckling at ourselves:
how hokey is this? he can't see us.
but we all stood up. I slipped my phone (put all exuberant texts momentarily aside)
in my pocket and felt my hands fall to my sides, my eyes rise with brimming salt (good kind).
the chief justice of the united states asked the people to stand.
to do more than watch this bigger-than-us thing--
to make it us. acknowledge, respect, take responsibility for
what is about to happen to the world and to those third-grade social studies books.
it reminded me (being religious) of a baptism, a confirmation, something similar--
the laying of the hands. congregational affirmation (just as significant).
hours and miles and millions of bodies away from him we stood up for him and for
what we know and don't know about ourselves--
this new, tauted generation of young (lazy?) hope.
who has/is/will-- but for now, standing still.