Four years ago I sat on the middle section of my brown, leather couch tucked away in a corner of my first Brooklyn apartment. The lights were dim. The only sound came from the television as I sat and watched the polls being tallied for the Presidential election.
That night, once the results were in, it felt eerie to be in the house alone. I wanted to be among a crowd of celebrants, jumping up and down in an expression of excited emotion for what I was watching on the screen.
President Barack Hussein Obama reminded me of my daddy. There was an heir of cool about him that warmed my heart, especially as he looked at his family lovingly and emanated humanity and compassion in the soothing tones of his delivery. I welled with tears of joy.
Last night, on the couch of my first apartment in Maryland I watched in anticipation. I was very clear of the bedtime story that I wanted to lull me to sleep. I flipped back and forth watching different news broadcasts and my facebook news feed go live with projections and worry, and with stories of chaos at the polls. I reserved anxiety and waited calmly.
The final speeches came well after midnight; there was talk of controversy and reluctance to concede until about 12:45am. When I was finally able to call my mom I heard such joy in her voice as she boasted that ALL of her children had voted (even me with my absentee ballot madness) and that she was so proud of what she saw today as she went to cast her vote. She described crowds of young people ecstatic to vote for the first time and elders, some above 90 in years, making their way through the lines as well. Her energy had me fired up and made me feel proud.
Last time, I watched the inaugural address in an auditorium at the high school where I worked at the time. This year, I'm within an hour of the capital. I'm planning my winter outfit because I will be there among the millions.
Let the healing of the nation get to places we've never been before!
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