This is what the picture of Barack and Michelle Obama that has been on my fridge for a year and a half says. Today, I took it down. I doubt I will ever display another picture of a politician in my home. I remember now why I never endorsed a political candidate in such a way before. I understand how and why I was caught up in things that led me to feel Obama was different. But now, I simply see the truth. He's not who I thought he was. Whether he is who he said he was is open for debate. I'm not saying he misled me. I'm saying I allowed my idealistic side, the one that wanted hope and change, to mislead the side of me that knows better. Hope can only be defined individually. Change happens inevitably. These are words designed to make the person who hears them personalize the message, and I did that, fully. I don't blame anyone but myself, but it's over.
I'm glad this picture will no longer be something I see every morning (and afternoon, and evening.) I'm glad to relegate it to the past. It was about an election and a dream. It was about a moment that is gone.
Here is what I see now, temporarily:
And here is what I will put up on my fridge soon, a watercolor by my wife who is learning to paint and seeking to express herself here in our home, in our community, with our family, in the midst of our real lives, which have veered enough towards politics and politicians already.
I'm leaving the dream of hope and change behind and returning to the real dreams -- those of my little girls at night, those that capture creative whirlwinds for my own attempts at self-expression, those that exist in the real world outside my door, those that I have only this one chance to attain.
It is bittersweet, like the end of a relationship that has soured despite hopeful and seemingly beautiful beginnings. But, just like the end of such a relationship, it is also a liberation to admit that it's not what you thought it was going to be and move on. I'm moving on. More flowers on my walls, less politicians.