Today I went back to Miss Carol's house.  I'm painting it for a nominal fee.  She is African-American with, she told me, Native American and White blood.  She was upstairs watching the programme, as I listened to NPR.  When I heard that the ceremony was running past time, but that Bush was no longer President, I cheered.

Miss Carol came flying down the stairs, all sixty-seven years of her, when Obama was sworn in.  She was giggling, laughing, fighting tears and so overwhelmed.  I was so happy, I grabbed her and hugged her.  We were both aware of this incredible moment, both proud, amazed, nervous and so very hopeful.

Miss Carol couldn't shut up.  She stayed with me as I sweated and rolled out her walls.  She talked so much, we missed the speeches.  She wore me down, to be honest.  I'm having a bit of a tough time.  But you know what?  I wouldn't trade it.  Seeing that lady turn into a young girl full of hope was the greatest gift.