Why I became emotional at the polls

I was anxious when I arrived at the public library in Green Hills to vote early.  Because I am in school in Atlanta during the week, I was unable to vote when early voting began as I had wanted.  Not knowing how long the line would be, I walked briskly so as to pass the few folk who arrived when I did.  While standing in line I thought about my recent move and wondered if I would have to turn that library out because of some questions about my current address.  There was only one other darker hued person in line, a young woman who was voting for the first time.  When the poll workers became aware of this, an elderly white gentleman sounded the alarm and everyone began to applaud and cheer. 

The line was not long but the waiting was getting to me.  I needed to cast that vote.  There was a sample ballot hanging on the wall (which I reviewed) but only one contest had my attention. 

Finally, I was directed to the desk to verify my information (no problems!) and I stood waiting to get to the voting machine.  Thoughts of hanging chads and the Florida Secretary of State and sleepless news watching four years earlier crept into my mind.  I wondered what we might have to endure this go round. 

When I stood at the voting machine I became impatient with the very kind gentleman who prepared it for my vote.  I could not wait to see the name and how it would look on the ballot.  What I did not expect was my emotional response to seeing it there.  I stood there just looking at it and did not immediately move to touch the screen by his name.  I wanted to savor the moment.  I wanted to etch that image into my brain.  When I touched the screen and saw the check appear by his name my mind was flooded with so many thoughts and visions:

It could be that the first president's name that my younger nephews would pronounce could be the name of an African American.  Just like they would not find cell phones and the internet to be foreign or new ideas to be learned and incorporated into their thinking, they may not, like I, have to accustom themselves to the notion of black man in the White House.  This man might be the first president they really knew.

It could be that a strong, intelligent, confident, articulate black woman will stand at the door of the White House to epitomize hospitality by deepening the world's understanding of the truest meaning of the word.

It could be that Americans might once again be a part of the world community.

It could be that the American demons of racism and hegemony will be further exposed and bound.

It could be that a disaffected people will become engaged.

I thought about Malia and Sasha growing into womanhood in the White House and the level of sophistication to which other little black girls will aspire because of them.

I thought about my brother and his wife, my sister and her husband – black strong, proud, anointed Christian POWER COUPLES on the move to make the world a better place even more inspired by Barack and Michele.

The feeling was elation.  The voting machine was the point of contact for my faith. 

What came to your mind when you voted?  What possibilities have been opened in your mind?