Pretty much all day — I’ve been on an Obama high. Well, actually, that’s not accurate. I’ve been on an American high. Wicked proud of my country today. Wicked proud of the man who stood up there and addressed a nation in challenging, but inspiring terms. Just what we needed.

What I’ve been thinking about most since a bit past noon is this: what can I do? Obama can’t turn this country around — it’s me. It’s you. It’s us. What can we do?

I have to give it some thought. What can I do to help my country? What if everyone of us answered the call of this new administration? That could be something. But we don’t have time to waste.

I cried today — just a bit — when Obama spoke. And it wasn’t because of him, or his past, or his words, specifically. It was because the overarching message of him, of the November election, of today’s freezing Inauguration, of the near 1.5 million people who stood in the frigid air in a city that was and wasn’t theirs — all that. And what it means: hope, faith, trust.

Things I barely believe in most of the time. Things I yearn to believe in all of the time. The cynic in me resists — why believe? Why trust? Why bother hoping?

Channeling Washington, Obama said today that we do all that for future generations. I don’t know about that. Yes, of course … in part. But I think, really, for the bigger part, we choose to have faith, to hope, to believe, to trust because we need it so desperately much. For ourselves. Not just for some yet-to-be-conceived next generation. But for us. The ones right here. Right now.

To get through each day. To get through our jobs. To get through taking out the trash. To get through the growing pains of a new relationship. To get through the hard times. To get through a lonely night. To get through.

To get through. And come through. And make it through. Through and true.

Count me in.