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Guest Essay

By Margaret Renkl

Ms. Renkl is a contributing Opinion writer who reports from Nashville on flora, fauna, politics and culture in the American South.

I had an elaborate itinerary for Election Day that I took to calling the Panic Abatement Plan. I’d walk in the woods early because temperatures are still breaking records down here. I’d stop by Parnassus Books, which would be full of kindred souls, and pick up my special order, Rachel Carson’s “The Sense of Wonder.” I’d visit the puppy room at the Nashville Humane Association. I’d have lunch with one friend, and I’d talk on the porch with another. I’d take my new book out to the yard and read while sugar maple leaves fell in golden drifts around me in the last light of day.

There were other items in the Panic Abatement Plan that looked more like a traditional to-do list for a day away from work — writing thank-you notes, cleaning bird feeders, deadheading zinnias so they’ll make new blooms to feed the bees in this summer that will not end. Maybe I’d get to that part of the list, or maybe I wouldn’t. It didn’t matter either way.

I voted early, so the Panic Abatement Plan was really just a daylong distraction project to keep me calm while my fellow Americans decided what sort of country we will all be living in. The whole point was to spend the day in the company of beauty and friendship and something that, if you stood way back and squinted, might look a little bit like peace.

I’m so glad I gave myself that day of sweetness. By the next morning, my eyes were sandpaper and a rock was lodged in my throat. Sweetness seemed........

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