Dreams from Barack Obama

(hello? Hello?? HELLO??? Why hello there! Where have you been? Pouring my soul into my work. Oh, I see. Well, welcome back! Grazie!)

Oh, happy day!

It’s taken only 36 hours to hit me. Barack Obama has clinched the Democratic party presidential nomination.

I watched his Minnesota rally speech live two nights ago, and as stirring as his words were, I still couldn’t fully comprehend what I was watching him declare he had all the votes he needed to claim he is the nominee.

It was interesting to watch an interview on ABC World News last night where Obama admitted to Charlie Gibson it hadn’t sunk in for him either. Obama may have just achieved a countless number of things — the first black presidential nominee, knocking Hillary out once and for all — but he was feeling just as human as I was.

As beautiful luck would have it, my husband arrived home with a library book I had put on hold several months. I exclaimed when I saw it was Dreams from my Father by Barack Obama. How neat is that and just six weeks after I had finished his other book, The Audacity of Hope?

As soon as I found my place on the subway car this morning, I dug voraciously into reading the back cover quotes, the dust jacket and then the introduction. Somewhere in the pages of the first chapter, on the dark tracks between Runnymede and High Park, my eyes began to well with tears. I don’t think it was anything in particular I had just read — I honestly couldn’t tell with my blurred eyes. But I felt something stirring I can’t really explain and frankly, don’t care to find an explanation for. I

All I know is I’ve always had hope in Barack Obama, from the moment I heard him speak at the 2004 Democratic National Convention. He captured my attention and has held it ever since. And not just held it, he has affected my spirit with his words, with his actions and with his message of hope.

Am I gushing? Yes! Because I had the audacity to hope and I will continue to, right until the last vote is counted in November.

And I will put it in writing here and now: If Barack Obama is elected president, I am going to do everything in my power to be at his inauguration. Not because he will be the first black president and not because he is a liberal. I will be there because every fiber in me tells me it’s what I need to do. Perhaps it sounds ludicrous to admit how deep one person I don’t know, and who doesn’t know me, affects me. All I know is this guy is the shit, even if he is a politician, and I am not even an American.

Perhaps sometime soon, I will be able to better articulate how Barack Obama has affected and influenced me. For now, I will just enjoy this book of his that I am reading and wish him much luck in the months ahead.