An open letter
Dear Sir,
You threw your hat in the ring so many years ago, under the premise of hope and change. And I believed that you really believed. And you made me feel hopeful.
I watched you, world-weary and topped in grayscale, deliver a parting gift tonight. A sort of homecoming. I heard you, again, consoling us and inspiring us and asking us to do our part. To remember that we are all the same but different. To remember our roles. It was a call to arms. A gentle, but firm reminder. A moment to listen. A chance to enlighten.
I wonder, quite often, what you could have and would have done without so much resistance. I watched as you navigated heady winds and murky waters. You made hard decisions, and you bore the brunt of our frustrations. I asked, over and over, whether or not I disagreed with or understood your actions. I compromised because sometimes the occasion calls for it. I reacted both positively and negatively to propositions, and executive orders.
I listened when you spoke, and I appreciated your candor. I questioned your actions, but never extended that to your character.
You spoke tonight about active participation, about recognizing my role as a citizen of this nation. You encouraged me to keep an open mind about those who inhabit it alongside me. You asked all of us to step inside someone else's shoes in order to change our narrative. You voiced your call to action, that we don't stand by if we don't like what we see or hear or feel limited by. You told us to be the change. You expressed your hope to us. You still believed it. And I believe it, too.
You are a good man. Your devotion and love for your family and friends is evident. You lift others up Your passion for people and your ease in communicating that is boundless. Your decency and thoughtfulness shine. Your acceptance of those who are different from you is something to strive for.
You are not perfect. But you are my President.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for making me hopeful that I can do more.
You threw your hat in the ring so many years ago, under the premise of hope and change. And I believed that you really believed. And you made me feel hopeful.
I watched you, world-weary and topped in grayscale, deliver a parting gift tonight. A sort of homecoming. I heard you, again, consoling us and inspiring us and asking us to do our part. To remember that we are all the same but different. To remember our roles. It was a call to arms. A gentle, but firm reminder. A moment to listen. A chance to enlighten.
I wonder, quite often, what you could have and would have done without so much resistance. I watched as you navigated heady winds and murky waters. You made hard decisions, and you bore the brunt of our frustrations. I asked, over and over, whether or not I disagreed with or understood your actions. I compromised because sometimes the occasion calls for it. I reacted both positively and negatively to propositions, and executive orders.
I listened when you spoke, and I appreciated your candor. I questioned your actions, but never extended that to your character.
You spoke tonight about active participation, about recognizing my role as a citizen of this nation. You encouraged me to keep an open mind about those who inhabit it alongside me. You asked all of us to step inside someone else's shoes in order to change our narrative. You voiced your call to action, that we don't stand by if we don't like what we see or hear or feel limited by. You told us to be the change. You expressed your hope to us. You still believed it. And I believe it, too.
You are a good man. Your devotion and love for your family and friends is evident. You lift others up Your passion for people and your ease in communicating that is boundless. Your decency and thoughtfulness shine. Your acceptance of those who are different from you is something to strive for.
You are not perfect. But you are my President.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for making me hopeful that I can do more.
Comments