We stopped the clocks for an hour last night, and even though we do this every autumn without much fanfare, it still feels like a rare kind of magic. The end of Daylight Savings Time is my favorite holiday because it creates more night. And if you’re staying at a motel, you get a free hour. It’s such a beautiful thing, this annual reminder that we can tinker with our shared fictions and rules.
Changing the clocks should be the biggest celebration of the year with fireworks, parades, and gift-giving. Because if we can rearrange time, we can do whatever we want. Invent new colors. Add more days to the week. Rewind the internet to 2005. Erase the borders on maps.
In the meantime, I stare at my watch, waiting and wondering. In 48 hours, we might take a decisive step towards writing a better future—and hopefully the president’s road-raging supporters are simply the scattered last gasps of something being swept off the stage.
