A letter to my children

Good morning my loves. Today, this moment seemingly like so many others, will no doubt appear to you like all the days that have come before. You will wake and go about your day. You may laugh or you may cry. The sun may shine and rain may fall. But know that no matter how mundane, or how boring it may have seemed to you, today my sweets is a truly remarkable day.

When I was young, the events of days like today passed with little interest. I was far more concerned with how I would score my next Star Wars figure or what it would take to rescue a woman from a barrel throwing ape. As you are young, I imagine that today will be for you what it was for me in my bygone days of youth, just another day.

A man of amazing caliber, one that grew from meager and humble beginnings, will raise his hand and take an oath this day. This symbolic gesture is one that is partook upon entering office always associated with giving of oneself. Many years ago I too raised my hand and took an oath. This oath was the same one your grandfather and great-grandfather took before me. We each swore that we would protect and defend you and all those that you know, even though the joy of having you was not yet realized. But, this incredible man will take an oath that neither his father nor grandfather ever did, for he is the first to do so.

Your great-grandparents lived in a nation divided. Simple people, many with the same dreams, hopes, and desires, were forced to coexist not as equals, but as separates. Policies were dictated that prevented children not unlike you from playing with one another only because the color of their skin was different. Your grandparents were born during what would become the waning days of those egregious mandates. They lived to see civil rights born, but as you are now they saw it's birth through child's eyes.

I doubt that your great-grandparents had the foresight to look upon those moments of history and speak to their children as I do to you now. For them it was the status quo, what had always been. And as is often the case in periods of great transition, your grandparents lived as children in a world struggling to cast off the old and embrace the new. Try as many would, times were turbulent. The transformation from a world of separation to one of equality was difficult, and sadly for many it still is.

It can not be said that things are perfect now. There will always be those that disagree with what is. But your mother and I were fortunate to grow up in a time when the best amongst us believed that content of character meant far more than color of skin. Through the actions and deeds of those before us, this is what we were taught to believe and we hold that belief dearly. As does the man taking an oath on the Capitol steps.

Like many others, your mother and I did what we could to help to put him on those steps. While your grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins would say we were wrong or misguided in casting our faith in this man, we did so because we believed in him. We believed in his message, his words, thoughts and ideals. We believed that in him lay the best chance for our future and our nation's future. But, more importantly, we believed that in him lay the best chance for your future.

You see, my dearest children, today isn't just another day. This day, these fleeting moments, are of such a scope that it's ramifications will be felt throughout the world. Today you live in a world that is forever changed. Despite all the chaos and all the turmoil that takes place elsewhere even as I write these words, today is a better day.

But, as remarkable as it all is, as wonderful as today shall be, for you it will be little different. This is the world you will forever know. You will grow and dwell in a time when we the people finally saw past the folly of race. You will prosper in a world made better by this moment.

So, trouble yourself not with what goes on this day. Instead, laugh, smile, run, play, and learn. But know that the fact that you will likely look upon this day as if it were no different than the innumerable that will pass following it, that act brings me immeasurable joy.