Memories flickered across his mind like an old cinema reel.
He felt the thrill, the swish of the helicopter as it dipped low over the crowd, following the silver snake of the river below. The laughter of the pilots pulled his eyes forward. Their missions, always so complex, so serious, now gave way to unbridled joy as they added to the theater, to the drama of the night.
Ahead the searchlights caught his eye. Beacons of welcome, guiding the way to the landing point, just downriver, strobes of color illuminating the stage that was awaiting him.
The fizz in the air, the buzz of excited chatter, the blare of music from the speakers, the babble of people enveloped him as he stepped from Marine One.
All replaced with silence as he sat into the car. The door thudded closed and sealed him inside.
Alone.
But not quite. A phalanx of ghosts. Generations of forebears crammed into the space with him. He felt them.
Felt their presence.
Their fortitude, determination, pride, love, admiration.
Their spirit filled his senses.
He felt his blood surge. This blood passed from parent to child, linking him directly with them all.
Generations long gone called to him clearly. He brought them all to mind. A cacophony of words, stories, accents, fables, tales. The sealed cocoon of his armored car holding them close.
He closed his eyes.
Took a moment of quiet.
The short ride to the location spanned hundreds of years. Generations.
He called the first line of his speech to mind.
His phone beeped. Tugging him back to the present. He looks at the screen. A smile lifts his face. Lines appear; laughter lines, smile lines almost causing his eyes to disappear. His mouth turns up in that trademark, lopsided grin. But his eyes are soft. Full of love, longing and desire for the love of his life.
Knock 'em dead, honey. I'm so proud of you.
How he wished she was with him. Beside him. Holding his hand. It wasn't to be but he felt her presence nonetheless. Knowing that he would see her soon calmed him. He felt his shoulders drop. Could hear her voice in his ears. You've got this, Joe. Shoulders back honey. Chin up. Go out there like the star that you are.
He entered the holding area; a cathedral. The familiar smell of churches the world over, furniture polish and the deep, lingering baseline scent of incense flooded his senses. He looked towards the altar. The Easter flowers still resplendent, the white and yellow tulips seemed to pull his eyes towards them. He looked at the huge crucifix. Heard the babble and practiced rushing behind him as he deviated from the path he was supposed to take.
He slipped across the side aisle, towards the nave, placed his hand on the bricks of the pillar, raised his eyes to peer into the ceiling, following the line of the column; steady, resolute, bold, slender, artistic, functional, beautiful. Wondered for a moment if he got his love of architecture from the great-great-great grandpop whose hands had crafted the very stone right now under his own palm. It was a connection through space and time, like a lightning rod through his soul.
He thought of his mom, of the poet grandfather, the sailor great-grandfather. His lost son. His baby girl, gone over half a century. A lifetime. Loves that would never diminish. The tears threatened for a moment. But he held them back. This was a moment of celebration. A full circle. A homecoming like no other. This was not time for tears but a moment of joy, of triumph.
He watched the screens, the speeches were underway outside. The crowd was holding back. He could feel it. Feel the buildup. They were anxious, wanted the talking done, eager to get to the main event, but understood that once he was finished, once he had spoken then the day, the week, the months of preparation were over and it was back to normal. A new normal. But normal. They wanted him to come out but wanted time to stand still too.
But time and tide would wait for no man.
The seconds ticked on.
The moment approached.
'Sir, this way please', a voice behind him. A hand on his elbow, 'mind the step, sir.' 'Just this way, sir.' 'Through the door, sir.' 'Just wait here a moment please, sir'.
He did as he was bid.
He stood just outside the side door. The evening was cool but his body was warm, wrapped inside his long wool coat. The tang of the river was in the air, the smell of burgers and hotdogs and coffee and sugar from the street vendors and shops wafted past him on the light breeze. The sirens in the distance caught his ears. He looked to his right. The landing site of the helicopter was surrounded by agents. The flash, flash, flash of lights from the Garda outriders at the head of the motorcade cast a blue tinge across his face. The cars were quiet but drivers were in place in case they had to evacuate him.
But there was no danger here.
Only love and warmth and a welcome such as he had never felt before.
He slipped his hand inside his pocket and withdrew his phone. Wanted to make sure it was turned to silent. Knew it was anyway, but still. He looked. Message from Jill ❤️. He ran his thumb across the screen. Unlocked the phone. The message appeared as the cheering erupted, the Mayor was finished speaking. His turn next.
'Almost ready, sir', Annie said.
He read the message.
Love you, Joe.
The phone buzzed in his hand again.
Four messages. He tapped the screen:
Remember who you are, Mr. President.
Catherine Eugenia Finnegan Biden's son.
But most of all; my wonderful husband.
Can't wait to see you x
He replied to her messages: Love you Jilly, see you soon, baby.
He paused. Looked to the sky, began his speech properly, for him and the ghosts around him, for the universe at large. 'My name is Joe Biden. I'm Jill Biden's husband ... , ' he said, his breath but a whisper on the air, his grin evident on his handsome face.
The cheering stopped.
Silence.
It felt like the whole country was holding its breath.
The seconds ticked by.
Still all was silent.
It was incongruous. The place was packed, tens of thousands of people were just on the far side of a partition and yet there was nothing but silence.
Heavy, pervasive silence.
The air was pregnant with expectation.
He felt his heart slow. A steady, low, calm, beat. He felt his ancestors envelop him. Felt those gone before reaching out through time and space and filling his senses. It was as if they created a shield around him, a path for him to walk upon.
He heard his mom's voice, clear inside his head. No one is better than you Joey. Everyone is your equal.
A voice boomed from the speaker.
'A son of Ballina ... The President of the United States ... '
As he moved he could swear he felt Jill's hand slip into his. He could feel her soft skin against his palm, her other hand curl around his bicep, her body move close to his, her hair tickling his face. He looked to his left, smiled ...
... opened his eyes ...
... she was looking at him.
He stared into her eyes. 'The love of my life, and life of my love', he whispered and, leaning across he kissed her.
To be continued ...
