Tuesday, January 20, 2009
To Sasha and Malia
I can hear you scurrying through what I imagine to be the cold, marble halls, your giggles echoing against walls saturated yet hardened with memories, your sneakers squeeking on floors in desperate need of scuffing up. Please set that puppy free, girls, in all the stuffy parlors and make sure it goes on all the furniture. Have a big birthday party with hats and noisemakers and blow those candles out well and good, letting the smell of children's wishes rise to the high ceiling of the highest floor. Trample over the daisies and chrysanthemums with your butterfly nets raised high above head in the garden of over-grooming. There are bitter ghosts and spirits in the White House little friends, but you will charm them just as your Daddy did the living ones. Today you are wrapped in a blanket of our faith and trust, carried on our shoulders in celebration. When the "ceremony stuff" comes to an end this evening, do me a favor and take a running jump and launch yourselves onto your big, beautiful beds. It's been a long time coming in this stiff, old, and white house.