Twelves Years Ago

Twelves years ago tomorrow I was standing in the bitter cold just off center of the Washington Monument witnessing my first presidential inauguration. I vowed that day that I would return every four years. Somehow I looked it as a new piece of my American identity. And try as I did this year, first finding access issues due to covid and finally due to traitors, thieves, insurrectionists, and terrorists I had to give up on my promise this year. As I thought all day today what to write I thought back to that day when Joe Biden became vice-president and our nation saw the first African American take the presidency. I thought about the people I met as we crowded around each other. I thought about the woman who was probably as old then as my mother is now, having waited her whole life dreaming of that day. She is the one person I failed to draw that I have always regretted. But I was three rows deep behind her and she wasn’t going to miss a moment to make sure I got a decent portrait of her. In a crowd of hundreds of thousands she stood out as one of the few who could have been sitting on stage. Dressed as sophisticated and elegant as the moment called for. I have witnessed first hand the past three transitions and make no mistake they were vastly different each time. As disappointed as I am not to be there tomorrow, the thrill and desire is dulled in not being able to have my fellow Americans around me to witness it together. I will draw tomorrow from home to mark the day and pray that all involved are safe and we turn the page knowing full well there is work to be done.—Dominick

Shared: Liked:
  •  
  •  
  •  

Post a comment