The author and all mentioned names have been altered to preserve the privacy of those mentioned.

My house is silent today. The place that yesterday was brimming with laughter and conversation and the smell of frozen food being microwaved is now quiet. No one plays music. No one turns on the toaster oven. The loud, obnoxious beep of the microwave is no longer funny but a reminder that loud and obnoxious is what our lives will be for the next four years. We all worry.

We are all afraid.

Daphne, because she is gay and she’s heard what Trump says and has seen what he does to people like her. She is afraid because his supporters now feel justified in their treatment of LGBT+ people, of people who aren’t like them. Our vice president to be wants to defund HIV research and pursue conversion therapy. The fear bites at her throat and her skin feels like it’s on fire.

We are all afraid.

Liz, because her parents are Mexican immigrants. Her little brother will spend the next four years listening to people pat themselves on the back for building a wall separating the two parts of him that he didn’t know were mutually exclusive. “They bring drugs,” Trump said,” they bring crime.” But what about the culture? What about the diversity? Her native tongue feels like poison in her mouth and what she once spoke without thinking twice, she now whispers.

We are all mourning.

Rebecca, because the earth is her home and now it’s in danger. The mountains and the rivers and the fish and the birds are all in the crosshairs. “Climate change isn’t real,” he said as the glaciers melt and sea levels rise and the earth is crying out for help. We are its last hope and we failed it. She looks at the trees in the wind and mourns for the ones that will not be here at the end of four years.

We are all scared because we are women.

We get nervous if it’s dark and we have to walk home alone. Our cheeks flush as a man stares us down because we wore a skirt today. We mourn because these men now think their actions are okay, are allowed, will elect them president. My hands shake as I see a red hat and “Make America Great Again” slaps my eyes and pierces my heart. I feel unsafe. I feel betrayed. I feel disgusted.

But I do not feel hopeless. There is still good. There are still puppies and tacos and fall colors. We need love more than anything right now. We have now seen what America is capable of, and it’s time we fought back. This is not over. Get involved. Make this right. Let’s make sure this never happens again. My house is silent today, but it will not be tomorrow.