I can only imagine the scene in the Family Quarters of the White House last night. Barak has dried Michelle’s tears, (or, more likely, she’s dried his), and they are hugging each other.
There’s a soft knock at the door, and their two beautiful daughters come into their bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Daddy, does America really hate you so much?”
” Seems so sweetie.”
“Why Daddy?”
“I guess racial hatred makes America just not really ready for prime time yet kiddo.”
Their conversation is interrupted by another knock at the door.
“That had better not be Joe,” President Obama joked.
The door opened and Grandma walked in. Wearily, she walked over to the sitting chair, and sat down .
She looked over to her family, taking in the sight.
“Barak?”
“Yes Mom?”
“How they like you now?”
Silence.
“And Barak?”
“Joe is outside. He needs a hug too.”
Eustace L. Greaves, Jr. is, most importantly, a Father. A Father who is praying for an America which has lost it’s way.
