It's a Beautiful Day

Allowing myself to write about anything else is tough. In a certain odd way, and this is a somewhat ghouly analogy, it's similar to the way I felt after my father died, and my grandmother. Here's why, allowing yourself to go back to life as you once knew it following a tragic event is just hard. You know you should, you know you have to, but hanging on keeps you in that moment. Turns out it doesn't have to be a tragedy, I also had trouble leaving my wedding reception. And now here I am stuck in the Obama moment, I want to stay here, much like I wanted to stay in Grant Park Tuesday night. I couldn't leave, I just kept wandering around, smiling at people, giggling and taking really bad pictures. My kind husband indulged me, as he usually does; I bought buttons, considered umbrellas and wished I had been smart enough to pick up one of those "I Was There" t-shirts, sold out, that I saw on the way in.

It seems the Obama family has left the park. Me too although I dragged my feet the whole way home. And while I couldn't see one official thing, nothing really, it was fine because I was there. What I was able to see was amazing, people, all kinds of people, crying, dancing and celebrating. John McCain said in his concession speech that this was a great day for African Americans. I think this was a great day for all Americans. Maybe, just maybe, this historic day could lead us all to stop differentiating, using race to draw a line between people. Maybe we could use skin color to describe someone's physical appearance rather than to create a seperate group of citizens. Maybe this is the step in the right direction, to allow us to put some of the bad history behind us, everyone. My friend Kenny pointed out to me that McCain's comment was a reflection of his age and that may be true, but it is also another reason to celebrate Obama. He's young, although older than the 45 that I learned on Meet the Press was the arbitrary age targeted as Race Is An Issue voter age.

And now there is hope.