Presidential Stand & Listen

The ONLY bad thing about being a big dreamer: The dreams you dare to dream can take you up, up and away above the cloud-line, but sometimes don't set you down so gently.

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As planned, I suited up for the big day yesterday, snagged my official "Meet & Greet Pass" at the embassy and rode on over to the convention center on a big huge bus, palms sweating, butterflies fluttering. Where I waited....

Paul got off work shortly after I arrived and we ran to each other, arms wide spread across a crowded reception hall to embrace in excitement for what was about to be. (We are very undiplomatic about our love for each other.) We chatted, held hands and sighed heavily at updates informing us of the President's late-running schedule. I leaned on Paul, he leaned on me. We took turns stretching our aching sciatics and calfs from heels and runs. I held our spot while Paul delivered to me, tiny white paper cones of water and we accepted the occasional saltine cracker that was passed to us to avoid passing out of sheer excitement/exhaustion. We swindled a few fellow waiters into taking our photo...

and we took a few photos of ourselves....

...and then three and a half hours, of standing in heels-and politely maintaining our modest spot just two rows from the front later- he arrived. It was a bit of an out of body experience and would have been more so, if my aching feet hadn't been a constant reminder that I was still, in fact, in my body. I tried to take as many pictures as I could, using my best professional photography trick of holding my camera as high above my head and dodging random point-and-shoots and hands and arms and balding heads as I could and praying. I really just wanted to be as present in the moment as I could. Ambassador Shannon introduced him and he gave a short speech to thank us for our hard work and service, then headed toward us to shake our hands.

This, friends.....

is when I should have let go of all diplomatic wifery and all my lady-like manners and just butted my way to the front, but who wants to be "that person" in front of THE PRESIDENT....I didn't (some did, not sayin', just sayin'). I held back, but a little voice in my head kept shouting, "Once in a LIFETIME opportunity!" ...and so I handed off my camera and purse to Paul and squeezed my way to the front. After all, the people in the front had already had their opportunity, but in true diplomatic (read: Pantera mosh pit) style no one stepped back and I was too late. I missed his outstretched hand by no more than two inches. I was crushed. As he slid further away, my disappointment grew. Dream big, fall hard. I had built up in my head, National Anthem playing, my eyes locked with his, words exchanged, compliments given, business cards exchanged. I retired home to my brood and settled down for a good cry. Ya! SO?!

But, in the end (like I've let it go, I so have not let it go yet) I got to be in a room, with about 150 people and hold hands with my husband, as our president spoke to us. And so he didn't have time to shake our hands, we were there, together and well....we looked really good, which is always the sign of a successful event. True.

And what's more, Paul captured this photo, which totally deserves a spot on the front cover of Time magazine. So not all was lost. Until next time Mr. President......