This Moment in History
Every window I have spent the day staring out of has been speckled with misty rain. My breath has fogged my glasses every time I step outside, not from the cold, but from the humidity. It has been a day of torrents and trials, and a few moments of respite I try in vain to dry off in. It has been a day of three cups of tea.
It is a strange thing to experience history made in one’s homeland from abroad, like I am far removed from both my country and from my life here, where Scotland overtaking Fiji in the Rugby World Cup (and the Melbourne Cup results) were of greater urgency than something like the presidential race of another nation. For the most part no one knows I’m American until my tongue gives me away, and even when the accent’s out of the mouth, we rarely talk of my heritage; people politely ignore the fact that I am a Yankee and I politely let them. Not today. Today we toast in a random bar downtown, they more for the abatement unity provides from loneliness, I because at the crossroads in history one as impassioned as I cannot sit passively without tipping her hat to some cause. To me it was not a question of whether or not we could, it was a question of whether we would. Well yes we can, and yes we did.
Today was a momentous day, not just because we did, but because it was my last day in Australia. Today I took my final exam and said my final goodbyes, and cleaned my room one last time. Today was the end of the first presidential race I followed astutely from beginning to end (for it was the first election I was to vote in), and the day I decided to heed the call homeward. It was also the first time in a long time I was proud of my country. As I watched the race to 270 from the television in the library, sandwiched among a throng of curious students, I felt an overwhelming urge of longing, a swell of pride, and for a moment I was given a brief glimpse into the potential my country and my life have. It occurred to me that it is not just Obama who will usher in a new era after the old, but me and my friends and enemies and acquaintances. The time has come for our generation, which has today fully matured, to step forward and take the place we have been promised. We are the youth that “will one day be the future.” And that day is today. For the first time I feel ready to take on that role.
Maybe it’s just youth speaking. Perhaps those of us on the cusp are just waiting for a cause to move us, willing to take anything that smells of revolution to push us into action. It’s possible. But it’s also possible that every ideology, yes, even America’s, is fueled by those spry enough to man it with our hungry minds and untarnished spirits. It’s possible that every generation has something they arm themselves at, and it is simply our turn. It is no coincidence the greatest revolutions of history start with the students, with the university protests and the demonstrations of those both intellectual enough to see it through but young enough to be idealistic. We would hate to be the only ones to sit idly during our watch. And I, I would like to say more on the subject, but I am tired and have a long journey ahead. The rain, long since a symbol of cleansing and clarity, will lull me to a deep sleep for sure. But let it be noted that I wish to sleep not only because I will need the strength for the months ahead, but because today has promised me a brighter tomorrow.