And this is unbearably sweet: my girl, born in the dwindling days of 1999, insisted on staying up past storytime, past bedtime, to see the returns on TV. This is her president; this is her time; this is her change; this is her country; this is her faith; this is hers. Thank you, thank you, for giving it to her, and for allowing me to watch, tears welling, doubts receding, as she asked, “Where’s Joe?”
This is her vice president too.
This is all more than I can say, but everything we deserve.
America, my home.