The roads got more and more narrow as we made our way through the Ohio country side in search of the Interrstate. As we came over a hill, clumps of small children walking along the roadside came in to sight through the fog. Small, umbrella-ed Amish children on their way to school.
On the crowded Metra train into D.C., a cheerful black gal thanked us for "being there for the working ladies" as she went from completing one shift to starting her next shift at a second job.
At the bakery, we sat near a charming family of two white parents and two Asian daughters, the most talkative one gesturing enthusiastically with her disabled arm.
As we walked through the crowd, a group broke into a Hebrew song that spread in pockets up the muddy slope.
The line for the portapotty was chockablock with families of all makes and models, all patiently waiting for only one loo. The faces of the crowd were varied, but all were the same in one way---warm, open, and returning every smile.
This is the America I know. Hi, I've missed you. It's good to be with you again. We got this.
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