Inauguration Day. At 6:30 am I woke to the pleasant and resounding chanting of, “Obama” from the masses headed to the Capitol building. Sparked by a saxophonist playing “My Country Tis of Thee” and “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” the attendees would finish both songs with a chant of Obama! The mighty united roars rang out so loud and powerful that you could feel the vibration. I looked out my window on Pennsylvania Avenue to find the streets flooded with a sea of people. Although I had read and heard projections and estimates of large numbers of attendees; it was an astounding and surreal sight.

Regardless of the warnings of bridge closings and extended waiting on local transportation, well-wishers continued to make their way to the National Mall. Not armed with tickets or guarantees of space, but an almost assurance of long security lines and cold weather they continued to come just to be able to say that they were there.

The Stafford Foundation had reserved a 12th floor terrace for our viewing of the proceedings. We could look down and see the people traffic and at the same time watch the inauguration on large-screen televisions. We could see and hear everything as it happened at the parade.

For me this trip to Washington D.C. was not an option but a requirement of my ancestors. I was not alive for the March on Washington and I was not old enough to make my own decision about attending the Million Man March. I could not and would not allow this moment in time to pass without being present. Others that I spoke with shared the same sentiments.

Whether you were black or white, from the north or the south, a blue-collar worker or a white-collar worker, employed or unemployed, on this day we were all Americans. Now I can’t say this feeling will last beyond this day but on this day at this hollowed spot, we all stood on one accord.

I witnessed history with my own eyes and will forever tell the story. When the question is asked, “Where were you when Barack Obama became the first African American president?” I will say with a resounding voice, I was there. I inhaled the same air, felt the same cold, and was graced with the same sunlight. And although I was not able to meet him face to face, our love for this country and its people connected. I felt the heartbeat and pulse of America that day. And even though the King dream is not fulfilled, there has been a great deposit made on it.