Trigger Warning: Sexual Abuse Of Children

Here's what the pizza looked like last night before it was baked. 

And here's what it looked like on my plate. 
It was gourmet! 

And all of that was good and fine from the making of it to the eating of it but today has been not great. 

I had a very hard time making myself get out of bed. This is not my normal. I mean, I love to laze about for a few minutes but then I get up and get going. This morning I could not think of a good reason to leave the warm, womb-like comfort under the covers. Maurice was laying on my legs, as if to say, "Hey, be a cat with me. Sleep all day if you want."
I did eventually get up, of course, and I thought about those memes telling us that sometimes getting out of bed in the morning is a feat of almost super-human strength. 
They do not lie.

I'd had a dream and it is still pretty sharp and clear. It was about the house my mother, brother, and I lived in in Roseland which my grandfather had built for us. Eventually, the stepfather moved in too, when he and my mother were married which is when the abuse began. Immediately. It's like in marrying the mother, he now had a right to the daughter as well, or least in his own twisted mind.  
In the dream I went back and explored it again after having done a brief walk-around it last month when we were in Roseland. I wrote about that HERE.
Unlike on that day when I could see nothing of the interior of the house, in the dream, the inside was accessible, and although everything was a bit dark as if viewed through sunglasses, I could see the terrazzo floors, the pine paneling with its knots and grain and it looked exactly like I had remembered/not remembered from when we first moved in. The bathroom had the same horrid beige tile bordering tile speckled with beige, and the pass-through window between the kitchen and living room had been boarded up. There was someone with me in the dream and I do not know who that was. They seemed to be a neutral presence and I told them about how the terrazzo floor had been created and how Ralph Holzclaw, who'd done the electric wiring, had been there the day they plastered over the walls and he expressed that this was a stressful day because if he'd made mistakes, it would be hard and expensive to fix them. 
How and why do I remember things like that? I believe I was about six years old. 
So I told this neutral person, this unrelated witness, all of these things as we went from room to room but we could not get into the bedrooms and I was disappointed and I was vastly relieved.
We went outside and where Granddaddy's house had been (and still is) they were leveling the lot, the jungle having been removed, and were going to build some horrible thing there. I was so upset but I knew this was how it is and I felt deep grief. 

I have a completely different dream version of Roseland than what it actually looks like and it always involves so much new construction, the changing of the river, and a huge population of people who have moved there and live in those newly constructed apartments and houses and eat in those newly opened restaurants and who have the boats that clog up the river. 
I hope with all of my heart that the house I lived in does not become a part of that dreamscape. The brown house. The place that was ruined forever by a man who abused a little girl. 

Which brings me to what's triggering me right now and I suppose you can guess what that might be. Do I even need to say it? 
Those files. Those e-mails. 
Those men. 
I would like to say that if this is the thing that brings Donald Trump down, if it crashes the entire travesty that his evil empire has engendered, it's all worth it but you know what? 
It's not. 
I think about the men who raped and abused and bought and sold children and who have gotten away with it for all these years and I am enraged. 
I think about all of the little girls who got caught in this net of horror and were completely unable to escape and what they suffered and how they suffered and how they still suffer and what they still suffer and what they will always suffer and I want to see every one of those men tried and found guilty and imprisoned for life. 
And they won't be. Trust me. Some may get some country club jail time but most will slip under the velvet rope of fortune and privilege and fame and influence and the very fact that they are men and you know that's true. 
But here's another part of the atrocities- every girl who was bought and sold, every child who was abused and raped had a mother and a father who allowed this to happen. I do not care what stories those parents were told or what dreamy, beautiful lies they were given or promises made. Any parent who allowed their child to fly to that island, to party with grown men no matter their names or positions or status, any parent who turned a blind eye to any of that played a part in allowing it to happen and was a participant too. 
This is probably an unpopular opinion but it is mine. 

Here's another thing- we all KNEW Trump was involved in the pedophilia but the thing that is going to probably take him down was the fact that he may have had consensual sex with a former Democratic president. That, doing gay things, is more horrifying and disgusting to so many people (mostly men) than what was done to children. 

And this is what I've been thinking about today which probably explains why it hasn't been one of the best days of my life. 

But I'm still here and will be tomorrow, most likely. 

Let's all take care of ourselves, okay? 

Love...Ms. Moon