What a day. Marriage equality in the morning, the President eulogizing a slain Black pastor in the afternoon, rainbows at night.

What a week. The ACA survives. The Civil War moves one step closer to an end, as we finally agree to stop collectively pretending that the Confederate battle flag signifies any noble cause.

What a month. If there were any doubt that we were living in the time of a new civil rights movement, the killing of nine martyrs in an historic Black civil rights church put them to rest.

There haven’t been many times in my life when I’ve been able to say, “This is what living through history feels like.” This is one of them, for good and ill. And living through it means doing all of those things that you never think of, years later, when you’re the one reading the history. Going to work. Sending the kid to camp. Getting news of a loved one’s cancer. Thinking about ways to kitten-proof the house. It doesn’t feel like it should all coexist. I want to remember what it was like, all of it.

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