Yes We Can

This morning my alarm was set for 4:45am, but I woke up at 4:25 and couldn't get back to sleep. It felt like times when I have awoken early the night before a trip, trying in vain to trick myself into going back to sleep by pretending that it is just another day. Dan and I arrived at our polling place just before 6 when the polls opened. I could not believe what we saw when we arrived--well over a hundred people already in line. The line continued to grow and, eventually, circled around the corner and out of sight. In the end, we waited in line for three hours before finally casting our votes for change.

The strange thing is, the time at the polls seemed to fly by. We live in a very diverse--and heavily Democrat--area. While waiting in line, people literally danced in the streets. They sang, including two different rounds of "Happy Birthday" upon discovering the birthday of a neighbor in line next to them. They laughed. They told jokes. They emerged from the polling place with shouts of enthusiasm and their arms held high. I have never, ever witnessed anything quite like what I saw this morning. There was so much excitement and joy in the air. There was no question that we were a part of something very big. At 9am, 8am, and even at 7am, people could not hold back their anxious anticipation of what was to come and of what could be.

The only downside of this long wait was its infringement upon my volunteer time. I was scheduled to volunteer from 7-9am (or thereabouts) at a polling place for Obama. No one--not even the Obama volunteer coordinators--anticipated that my wait in line would be so long. By the time Dan and I arrived at the Obama office around 9:30, things at the polls had slowed down, there was no immediate need for folks (they actually had a surplus of volunteers!), and I was in desperate need of getting to work. With great disappointment, I left my volunteer plans behind. Dan volunteered with the campaign for the rest of the day, and I went to work and then on to class, trying once again to pretend it was a normal day in a vain effort to gain focus on the tasks at hand.

Tonight, Dan and I joined a group of 15 or so for a results watch party. When the words "President-Elect Barack Obama" flashed on the screen, I did not really understand. As the champagne was uncorked and cheers rang in the air, I did not understand. As the electoral votes continued to pile up and John McCain conceeded, I still did not understand. It was not until Barack Obama gave his acceptance speech that I finally understood. I finally could look at someone and say, "That is my President." I finally heard my President speaking in a language I understood, in words that rang true to me, with a sincerity and hope that made me believe maybe it is possible to have the world I dream of. I couldn't keep the tears from falling down my face, could not hide my joy and relief at finally feeling that--for the first time--an elected official was committed to being a representative of the people, to being a representative of me. After years of feeling like a stranger in a strange land following many an election, I finally felt like an American at home in her own country. It is a beautiful and overwhelming thing to finally see the glimmers of a land you have always wished for--the one that just might live up to all the grand things you've been told about your great nation from the time you were small. To actually think about your country and say to yourself, "I can't wait to see where we go next." For the first time, in a long time, to believe in the place you call home. And to know that, for so many people, they might be able to believe in the promise of this country for the very first time.

Yes, we can. Yes, we did. And yes, we will.