Four years ago, I stood on the mall in Washington D.C., with a friend, freezing but oh so excited, waiting to witness Obama’s big day.
We were staying in Virginia and had gotten up at 2 AM to take the train into DC, dressed in every layer we owned. We were surrounded by so many hopeful people, it had me waving the miniature American flags the Boy Scouts were handing out so vigorously that one broke and I had to go ask for a new one. I felt so patriotic that day–you wouldn’t believe a pragmatic half-European like me could feel like that.
It was such an intense day, and it’s one of my favorite memories of that whole semester abroad.
Even if thinking about how cold it was gives me the shivers all over again.