Very few things make me..contented, or as..right, as having peace in my home, or just peace around me. My wife is asleep right now, hopefully dreaming good dreams. The people I love most in this world are all probably asleep right now, except perhaps my sister, who is a known insomniac.

But my peace is why I’m still awake. My brain won’t shut off, going through what-ifs and the events of the past few days. I am worried, angry, tired. I am surrounded by people who feel the same way I do, some in very different ways. Some have adopted a dark humor, others are grim and write screeds on their social media that amount to “I told you so, but you don’t listen to me.”

I want peace to reign in my house, where I can text my peoples and they have a joke for me, or an invitation, or recommendation for a new food spot or music or a good book. Not contingency plans for the worst of times. I want news of joy, not recaps of what is and what that means for what could be.

My mother is a big fan of saying, “What’s good don’t last always, what’s bad don’t last always.” But I remind her that the Jews stayed in the wilderness for a few generations before Moses got them out the paint, and while they EVENTUALLY made it out, the woods were all a few generations knew. I’m not convinced I’ll see us getting out of this wilderness.

I’m worried, angry, and sleepless on the Southside.