Perhaps tomorrow, when Denver empties and after the memories of fireworks fade, as people get on their planes to go home, they’ll also return to their plane before all this began. They might remember that they have jobs to return to, or responsibilities that will keep them from putting in any extra effort to help elect the man who spoke in Mile High Stadium tonight. They’ll return to their communities who still hold tight to racism no matter how much they hide or show it, and lose faith in this man who wants to lead first and make history second. People might fall victim to the Republican methods of muddying people, or fall victim to muddying themselves. Their lives will remain comfortable, problemless, straight lines, and they’ll stay on that road, unwavering and unwilling to take the highs with the lows. They’ll dream big for Christmases with their kids, safety for their families and the world as it is, not what it can be. After all, as many would say, today is all we have.
And as today turns into tomorrow, perhaps it will be forgotten by most, except for those who were there.
But every single person in that stadium will remember it. The memories will be as different as the highest rafter to point-one podium, but they’ll remain. It wasn’t about changing the world, at least not for me. It was about a man surrounded by something that forced its way through history, inevitable and certainly unexpected. And a man who wanted it enough to go through it, and who took everything he had from all areas of his life, positive and negative, put it out there, and didn’t look back, at least for those brief moments he may never replicate again. Luckily for him, those moments will be there forever in history, as is.