You may say I'm a dreamer . . .

I woke up this morning and felt tears coming to my eyes. I cried all last night as I was watching the election returns. I cried during our next president's speech. I was crying tears as I feel asleep. Tears of hope, joy, optimistic, and most of all, pride in my country. As I opened my eyes, I turned my head away from my husband and dried my tears on the pillow. I wouldn't want him to think I was silly and emotional. I just need a minute to collect myself, I thought.

The weather report online said it was raining in DC but I stepped out on my balcony and it was not. A little gray and overcast, but a perfect temperature for a my morning walk with the dog along the Potomac to Starbucks. A good portent for the day ahead. While my route was was the same as always, everything looked a little different. The Kennedy Center, Roosevelt Island, the Georgetown Waterfront, the Key Bridge were all a bit more radiant, even under the cloudy sky. While these DC landmarks reminded me of the importance of where I was living, it was the people along my walk I noticed. The people that kept making tears well up in my eyes again and again.

As a was walking through the hallways of my condo building, I pass by a young El Salvadorian woman who is part of the cleaning crew. I wonder what she is thinking. Can she vote? Does she wish she could have? Does she feel proud to live in America today? What did she endure during the El Salvadorian civil war? What price did she pay to be able to live in this country and clean apartments? Does today make her feel like her sacrifices were worth it? She gives me a gigantic smile and says "hello." I do the same. The tears start to come back.

The Saudia Arabian embassy appears across my field of vision as I step onto the sidewalk. It's quiet and austere as always. I wonder if Muslim and Arab Americans feel a little more welcomed, a little more secure in their own country today? And how do people in the Middle East feel about the fact that the next American president's middle name is Hussein? Will that change anything at all for them?

I round a corner and see three city workers who are African American men in the distance. As they are about the start trimming the grass along Rock Creek Parkway, one of them shouts a big "good morning" to me. I give them a double thumbs up and say "what a GREAT morning!" They all get smiles on their faces, nod their heads, and offer affirmations back at me. I turned my head away and started quietly crying again.

I dry my tears in time to say hello to an elderly white women walking her dog whom I often cross paths with. She was still wearing her "I Voted" sticker from yesterday. She was smiling and happy, as she always is in the morning. I wondered whether she shares in the elation over the Obama win with so many of her fellow DC residents. Was she able to overcome the prejudices of her generation and vote for a man of color? And even if she didn't vote for him, was it purely because of policy differences and not because of the ethnic origin his father? I couldn't answer those questions but I imagined how a day like today would have been unimaginable when she was my age. I think how far we have come as a country and how far we have to go to overcome discrimination and racism. I hope some of the optimism of today affects her no matter what her opinions or prejudices. The tears start coming again as I walk away from her.

As I get close to my destination at the Georgetown Waterfront, I group of people get off a commuter bus. They are mostly young professionals all dressed the same in suits and collared shirts. They are black, white, latino, asian, and many other identities. Since this is DC, I assume many of them are politically active. However, I think of all the young Americans previously ambivalent about politics who voted for the first time ever yesterday. I think of a young generation finally energized to political awareness and action. I hope that momentum continues.

I enter my regular Starbucks and note, like I have many times in the past, that all the employees are African-American. A certain positive spirit affects the mood of the entire store. Patrons seems more awake than usual, chattier, friendlier. The woman whom I place my order with almost every morning forgets to give me enough change. I gently mention this, and add "we're all a little out of it today." She gives me a big smile and I smile back. I leave all my change as tip. Even the older barrista who looks perpetually tired and overworked, like life has worked him too hard is beaming today. Even he smiled at me when I verfied my Americano was decaf. And he never smiles. I wonder if he is now able to tell his children and grandchildren that they too can be president one day. I think of all he has endured and wonder if he ever thought he could honestly say that to his younger generations. I walk out of the coffee shop with the tears starting to return.

I notice all the Latino and African-American workers on the street, heading to their construction jobs in the condo buildings on my block. Do they see this country any differently today? Do they feel a small part of their burden has been lifted?

As I return home, I think of the elderly Indian gentleman with a Ph.D. who sometimes works behind the front desk at my building, who came to the U.S. on a scientific research fellowship decades ago but now hands white people their mail because it pays better. Does he feel like he wasted his education and his intelligent mind for all these years working a menial job? Does today make him feel like it worth it? Does he see an even brighter future for his family in an American that can elect a man of color as president?

As I sit down to sip my coffee and read the news online, I think about the someone close to me who said hurtful and prejudice things about Obama voters on the phone last night. Someone who I normally consider fair and open-minded. I know he, like some Americans today, is disappointed and frustrated over the way the vote turned out. I wonder if these people, too, can feel the optimism and exhilaration in the air today. I hope they can put aside their policy differences and their perceived personal economic self-interest to feel a small bit of what so many Americans feel today. The sense of community and connectedness, the weight of history being lifted, and enormous swelling of pride in our country. I wonder if they could see the faces I saw today and hear their stories if they would still be so hurt.

Today I feel for the first time that we are all truly Americans. A feeling of unity that has been elusive for so long that it is worth almost any price. The tears are coming back. I think they will be flowing for a while.