Several months ago, one of my very dearest pals and I decided that rain, shine, or whatever life was throwing at us, we’d walk together every Thursday morning. I believe the only exception we’ve made is when we stayed in to watch Fiona Hill conquer her hearing during the impeachment trial. That was infinitely worth it.

This Thursday tradition is one of my favorite parts of every week, time with a rare gem of a human that I treasure. Yesterday after we walked, I used my new juicer (the Breville juice fountain; I could not recommend it more) to make us fresh carrot-orange juice, and as we drank our vitamins, I confided that with Tom out of town and the pace I’ve been keeping, perhaps I wouldn’t head downtown to join the #SwarmTheSenate protest at noon.

“I’m tired, but I do want to go.”

“Well, you don’t have to go. You certainly go enough. But it does always make you feel better.”

It does, she was right, and I’m so glad I hauled it down to the Hart Senate Building to join the swarm, not least because just after we began, the House walked the articles of impeachment to the Senate and Chief Justice Roberts began swearing in each senator as an impartial justice (we’ll see about that as not a few Republicans have already made clear they refuse to call witnesses, hear new evidence, or listen to anything that goes against ‘our dear leader is perfect’).

Swarm is a committed, welcoming bunch from all over the country: California, Maryland, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Florida, New Jersey. They have black shirts that together spell out a variety of phrases and others that have Article 2 Section 4 of the Constitution on the back. Some have been adorned with colorful pieces of fabric on which Remove Trump has been printed. Fortunately, I was wearing a charcoal shirt and navy pants so I didn’t stand out too badly. And they have rolls of Remove Trump/Swarm the Senate stickers, so I stuck two to my chest.

We gathered inside the Hart atrium, in front of a towering black steel Calder sculpture called Mountains and Clouds. Quietly, peacefully, we stood in front of it in rows, the sun streaming down on us through skylights overhead. Periodically, perhaps because of the stringent rules around gatherings and protests in government buildings or perhaps to infuse a bit of performance art into our protest, we walked silently around, a solemn conga line punctuated by silent resisters standing firmly in newly adopted places.

An 85-year-old woman named Barbara had brought a folding stool to sit on rather than stand. The guards told her she was not allowed to sit in the atrium unless she used the stone benches scattered around the perimeter of the space. After some respectful discussion about was that discrimination or not -I mean, would they not let someone in a wheelchair stay put?- Barbara relocated to a bench. We gathered around her in solidarity (see second photo, above).

Roughly forty-minutes in, we made our way to the second floor of the Russell Senate building where the gorgeous, multi-floor round atrium is. I saw a woman I’d marched with and met several years ago, the NRA -> DC march, and also met a great woman from New Jersey. I felt so deeply and sadly that so many of the people who sit behind the wooden desks in the marbled offices in the hallowed halls of Hart don’t remotely respect the country or office enough to deserve the positions of power they hold.

Someone unfurled an enormous Remove Trump banner, and we did calls-and-responses with an ever-growing crowd of protesters until we got our third warning from Capitol Police. I could not afford to get arrested yesterday, nor could the NJ woman I’d met, so we walked around the Capitol grounds. I stopped suddenly in front of a new visual I’d not seen before: a graveyard of House bills the Senate, McConnell, has refused to bring to the floor.

It’s powerful. Rows of headstones each with a bill as epitaph. 347 House-passed bills just languishing on McConnell’s desk. Bipartisan bills that would help Americans in so many ways.

I don’t know what will happen this November , but I do know that it’s worth fighting every single day until then to protect what democracy we have left, to get enough people informed and inspired to vote in new members of Congress who will actually care about oaths, regular citizens, infrastructure, our dying planet, equity, justice, and the future.