Four Years Ago....

*If anyone reads this, which is doubtful, they will probably think me to be a typical liberal, part of that "other America" that Sarah Palin warned you about. And you know what? I would apologize for that and tell you that I'm a typical American (because I think the results showed that last night, Ms. Palin....), but I'm not going to. For the first time in four years, I am proud of my own beliefs, so if you don't agree, you don't have to read, and if that makes you mad...well, too bad. I am a bleeding heart liberal, I am PRO-CHOICE (with a vengeance), I think anyone who wants to get married should be able to do it, I'm all about affordable health care for all, and I invite oil companies to just come suck it. There. I said it. That felt good. If that's not American to you, then, to be honest, I really don't give a damn.

Four years ago, I was a college senior with a 1 year old and a 5 year old at home. Four years ago, I was happiest when I was in my Tolstoy class. Four years ago, I worked the 4-midnight shift at Books-A-Million's cafe, coming home covered in coffee and just hyped up enough on caffeine to finish my homework. Four years ago, I loved my family, but quietly wondered what else was out there.

And four years ago, I lost all faith in America, in the democratic process, and in my own beliefs.

Four years ago, I wrote a blog entry full of tears, complete with Ginsberg. I had worked my butt off for John Kerry, passing out bumper stickers, taking my baby to the polls with me in a stroller, where I passed out literature and helped old people walk up the step and into the room where voting was to be held. Being the quintessential naive college student, I had no doubt that my candidate would win, because, ultimately, I believed that people saw the same way I did. I was surrounded by liberal professors, who swore moves to Canada if George Bush did the unthinkable and won.

And, of course, he did win. Wednesday, November 3 dawned cold and dreary, like a pall was stretched over our land. I couldn't see why. I couldn't understand how our country was so divided. My favorite professor halfheartedly jested that he was thinking of moving to New Zealand to become a sheep farmer, and I felt tears spring to my eyes, not because of the outlandishness of such an idea, but because all of a sudden, that seemed preferable to the current condition. I took a picture of my family holding up a giant sign that read "We're so sorry" and posted it on a website that contained pictures of Americans, apologizing for their country to the rest of the world. After posting that picture, I silently swore off politics right then and there, and in fact, four years ago was the last time that I voted. I didn't even register when we moved to CA, so upset and stung was I by my loss.

But last night, it all came back. I felt alive with the political process. I felt proud of my fellow Americans, MY FELLOW VIRGINIANS (HOLLA!). I fell in love with my country again, with the dividedness and the togetherness, with the tears and the cheers. Not just because of Barack Obama, although he is pretty rad--I'm not naive enough to think that he spits lollipops and rainbows like I think some people do, and I do know that the road in front of him is a lumpy one. But because we, as a youth, as a people, believed in something, and we worked, and it paid off. We weren't shut up by oil companies, by strategists who tweak the strings of faith and scare the frightened and the foolish into voting against their own interests. We used Facebook, we used our communities, we used each other to become something great, something that we weren't able to do four years ago. And last night, seeing all those beautiful young faces, crowded into a cold Chicago park, I cried. I cried for four years ago, I cried for Prof. Anemone and all the sheep farmers, I cried for the world, I cried for the "I'm Sorry's", I cried for us, as a country.

We are something that makes me proud. We are beautiful, and we are doing the one thing that I think everyone, parents especially, should strive to do. We are trying.