I've spent a fair amount of energy over the past eight years wishing I lived almost anywhere but here in the nation's capital. That changed on Tuesday. I’m still reeling from all of it, from going to the polls, with Isaac as company and witness, and casting my vote; from the anticipation that Obama might not win; from the exhilaration that he had won; from the sight of tears streaming down Jessie Jackson’s face in the Grant Park throng; from the whoops and hollers of victory and relief – so much relief – and joy; from the wine and then the champagne; from driving our friends home through the neighborhood to horns honking and crowds cheering; from not being able to sleep because of all the horns honking and crowds cheering; from waking up early the next morning and wondering if it was possible that we knew that this victory was certain, no "democracy in overtime" this time; from driving Isaac to school and discussing the evening before, he had been out in the hall with his friend and his friend’s mom and I started screaming when we heard Brian Williams say, “There are going to be young children in the White House;” from going to buy a Washington Post, that first draft of history, at approximately 9:30 A.M. and, after I’d checked at the Safeway, the CVS, the corner store, realizing there was not a paper to be found in the city; from getting the word that they were going to deliver a special commemorative edition of the Washington Post between 3 and 5 and waiting for 90 minutes only to hear that the delivery had been indefinitely delayed; from walking by the White House last evening (I’d been in the neighborhood, at a reception at The Corcoran) and seeing the fence where the crowds had screamed, pushed and pressed the night before and thinking how wonderful it was that nothing was the same; from walking to the Washington Post, only find out that they were not selling papers at that hour; from getting up this morning and going to the Washington Post and waiting in line with at least 100 people, including a woman who was wearing an Obama watch; from coming home and clicking around the Internet and marveling at the moment. What a moment, this.
11.06.2008
what a moment, this
I've spent a fair amount of energy over the past eight years wishing I lived almost anywhere but here in the nation's capital. That changed on Tuesday. I’m still reeling from all of it, from going to the polls, with Isaac as company and witness, and casting my vote; from the anticipation that Obama might not win; from the exhilaration that he had won; from the sight of tears streaming down Jessie Jackson’s face in the Grant Park throng; from the whoops and hollers of victory and relief – so much relief – and joy; from the wine and then the champagne; from driving our friends home through the neighborhood to horns honking and crowds cheering; from not being able to sleep because of all the horns honking and crowds cheering; from waking up early the next morning and wondering if it was possible that we knew that this victory was certain, no "democracy in overtime" this time; from driving Isaac to school and discussing the evening before, he had been out in the hall with his friend and his friend’s mom and I started screaming when we heard Brian Williams say, “There are going to be young children in the White House;” from going to buy a Washington Post, that first draft of history, at approximately 9:30 A.M. and, after I’d checked at the Safeway, the CVS, the corner store, realizing there was not a paper to be found in the city; from getting the word that they were going to deliver a special commemorative edition of the Washington Post between 3 and 5 and waiting for 90 minutes only to hear that the delivery had been indefinitely delayed; from walking by the White House last evening (I’d been in the neighborhood, at a reception at The Corcoran) and seeing the fence where the crowds had screamed, pushed and pressed the night before and thinking how wonderful it was that nothing was the same; from walking to the Washington Post, only find out that they were not selling papers at that hour; from getting up this morning and going to the Washington Post and waiting in line with at least 100 people, including a woman who was wearing an Obama watch; from coming home and clicking around the Internet and marveling at the moment. What a moment, this.