President Barack Hussein Obama!

I woke up at 4:30 this morning, and after lying awake a few moments, I made my way out to our dark living room.  Not even the moon shone through our window shutters. I didn't turn on lights, open windows or surf the net, as I so often do when I cannot sleep.  I simply sat and enjoyed the profound silence.

We did it! We elected Barack Obama!  I repeated these words silently, like a mantra.  As I sat alone in the warm night, I imagined my husband sleeping soundly, his shoulders rising and falling gently.  I imagined our baby daughter, holding her Raggedy Ann, mouth open, breathing soft baby breaths in and out, in and out.  My heart throbbed with joy in my chest.  America had elected her first African American president---and not just any intelligent, capable African American, but Barack Obama, that gifted poet who reminds us that hope is not pointless or juvenile,  who sloughs off insults with pose and dignity, who, beneath the cool exterior, carries a ferocity of spirit we have so far only glimpsed. 

How glad I am that our daughter will spend her childhood years in this America, the America of possibility, of justice, of dignity, the America who has not only elected her first black president, but has pulled herself out from beneath the mean and spiteful yoke of preemptive attacks, deregulated industries that feed on the people like carrion, and shrinking civil rights, in good faith that there is another way.

And now, the day after my early morning vigil, I realize that Barack Obama, and indeed all of America, now face the greatest challenge yet: fixing the damage sustained over 8 long years of criminal neglect and abuse, all the while keeping our eyes on the prize.