At exactly 8:00 pm, the California polls closed. And it was all over. No one had to count them to know who would win the state, and California was all he needed. There was a sound of the collective shuffle of millions of people around the world standing up to see the TV set at the bar, leaning over their family in the living room to get a peek, hitting refresh on their browser one more time, and turning up the radio to make sure they didn't miss it. And the networks called it, falling like dominoes, until you couldn't watch any channel, hit any website, tune in to any radio station, without hearing the news: Barack Obama would be the 44th president of the United States.

There were tears and screams and hoots and honks late into the night, and I fell asleep to the sound of helicopters overhead gathering footage of people cheering in the streets.



A year ago, I had the chance to listen to Obama speak live as he addressed the overflowing auditorium at Google. We'd had Ron Paul and Hillary Clinton, John McCain and Bill Richardson, and on the 14th of November 2007, Obama took that same stage. Something happened that afternoon that no one expected. It's hard to say exactly what it was that won over the crowd. Maybe it was the way that he talked about the hard problems of the world sanely, rationally, like any of us would have done, but in a way that sounded so unfamiliar coming from a politician. Maybe it's that he spoke about the world, and not just this country; he talked about his Chinese-Canadian brother-in-law, and about the problems of the entire world, like he was actually aware that there even was a world beyond America's borders. There were no unanimous voices later that day saying "I'm voting for that guy", but you could see it in people's eyes as they held it silently to themselves, and in the coming weeks it become evident. A lot of people who had never heard of this guy before decided who they would vote for that afternoon. I did.



He wasn't offering perfection; there was no possible way to please everyone. What he was offering was a change. Not just new policies or new laws or duct tape over problems that would be removed as soon as the next President came along. I think that what he was offering was what a lot of people felt and needed to hear: "We fucked up in a lot of ways. Let's fix it." Anti-intellectual bullyism has ruled this country for too long; it has to end. It felt like an insurmountable problem. Like that we had gone too far and turning back was impossible, but he was telling us that we shouldn't lose hope for change. And people responded in droves.



Before coming out to say his acceptance speech last night, Obama sent out an e-mail to all of his supporters, thanking them. He thanked them for donations and for their time; for campaigning door to door and for calling the swing states, house by house, calming their fears and explaining that no, this and that rumour isn't true. He received small donations, by individuals without a lot of money, in numbers that no one thought were possible. This wasn't a Presidency won by a rich man from a rich background in a political family with a lot of rich supporters getting him there. More than I had ever thought possible, this was a Presidency won by individuals. It didn't feel like someone we had just supported had won, it felt like we won. We were a part of it.

Only thirteen hours before his victory was declared, I cast my ballot. My pen hovering over his name, I paused for half a second and allowed myself to take in the moment; who I was voting for and everything that it meant. Until that moment, part of me didn't believe it was possible. This country was too full of stubborn anti-intellectuals to ever let this come to pass. It would be stuck in the downward spiral forever, taking the helpless world with it. But here I was. Polls were hopeful -- more than hopeful -- and looking around at the line of voters who eagerly awoke before 7 am to make it here this morning, change actually seemed possible. But I was also terrified. If he lost, hope would be lost for a long, long time. If Obama couldn't win, with the power of most of the world's support behind him, what would it mean for the future? It was a thought that was nearly too terrifying to even consider. That's why I was there to vote.



In his acceptance speech, Obama warned that this was just the start. His election was a symbol more than anything, and a lesson for everyone everywhere: it's not too late to change things for the better. But this was just a step; a small but important step. No one President is going to fix everything that needs fixing. No single term is enough time to fix all the damage that's been done recently and prepare us for everything ahead. We won some and we lost some.



That's the message to take away from all of this. We can cause change. And it's a good thing, too. Because there's still a lot to do.