I kept Archer home from school this morning to witness this day, this moment and I sat between my babies, eyes glued to the TV and I cried. Clutching the hands of my son and my daughter, I cried.
I cried because the world feels very small. Because the next time I travel abroad I won't be ashamed to say I'm American. I cried because people are good and decent and capable of such profound change. Because the future is hopeful as are my peers, my friends, family, even those most cynical. Because Bush is no longer the face of this country and
Mr. Potter's Cheney's karma is already at work. Because everything just feels new, today. Different. Because when my children will think, "first family" they will think of this:
When I'm old and people ask "where were you on Jan 20, 2009," I will say, proudly, that I was home, between my children, the reflection of change personified flickering like fire in their eyes. That I got to watch history unfold whilst being surrounded by the future: On one side, an infant gurgling, waving her little fists with wide, wandering eyes. On the other, a boy, perceptive beyond his three years, watching the television with cockeyed interest.
As Biden was being sworn-in, Archer turned to me and said oblivious to the weight of his words.
"Barack Obama gets to go next, right Mommy?"
"Yes, baby. Barack Obama does get to go next."
"Because it's Barack Obama's turn. And then we clap, okay?"
"Yes. We clap as loud as we can."
And so we did. We clapped along with millions... with billions of people in the United States and the world.
We're still clapping.
P.S. Happy Birthday, Mom.