I spent a good portion of the day crying over the idea that we could tell D’s babies, born today, that they were born on the day we elected the first black president. It wasn’t just hope, like I knew it just had to hppen that way. I told my coworkers and they were not suitably impressed. Luckily my friend S came in to restaurant (she’s the standard of what I want to be as I grow older) and she cried when I told her. Babies born on the day of hope.
Early in the evening another friend brought his 8 month old son in. And while I was holding this lovely baby, he was smiling the most devilish smile at me. Arched eyebrows, wrinkled nose, look of pure joy. His dad told me he’d never made that face before and it was a smile just for me. I’m saying, it was a good day.
So we had the results on in the restaurant and when they called the election I went around and told all my tables in case they didn’t hear. I had one table of middle aged Hispanic men (all of whom I know fairly well) and they all just blinked at me. Made me repeat it three times. It didn’t seem real. I guess in way it still doesn’t.
Later all the customers sat rapt (on the floor even) around the TV, drinking champagne and watching Obama’s speech. I admit, I cried all the way through it, while my boss patted my back and we all smiled at each other. It was a lovely night.
I have smart things to say, about how Obama’s campaign ran, about the momentus nature of this, about people in my neighborhood. But it will have to wait. I am a little drunk. I do have restored faith in my fellow Americans. I feel like I can breathe again. Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope.
In a final note, Ladybug came back from vacation tonight. I texted her election results as she sat on a plane, waiting to take off. She was asleep when I got home, but she got a small present: Tibetan prayer flags. Something I’ve always talk about. If there was ever a time to send our prayers flying to heaven, it is today.