Dear President Obama,

On January 20th, the forty fifth president of the United States will be inaugurated - marking the end of your presidency. Before that day arrives, I’d like to take a moment to share with you some of my recollections regarding your two terms.

When President Bush was reelected in 2004, I was eight years old. My brother was two. Although I was a child, I remember what it felt like to feel ashamed of your president, to feel embarrassed of your president, and to be afraid of your president. I remember thinking to myself, as an eight-year-old, that my brother had never been alive at a time when our country was not at war. I wondered if he ever would be.

I have another memory, this one from 2007. Our country was in recession - something I understood little about at eleven years old. I heard about it constantly, but for a long while I was left in the dark about how my own family was affected. One day, I was in the car with my family not far from home in Brooklyn. I don’t remember where we were, or where we were going. My parents must have been talking about the recession, and I finally decided to ask if we had lost any money. They told me that they had lost their entire retirement funds. I thought about how hard my parents had worked to save that money. I thought about them being elderly, and needing to retire, and wondering if they would be able to. Tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t make a sound.

By 2008 - a big year for you - I was in the seventh grade. There was a buzz around school about how historic it would be if you would become the first African-American president. I remember a classmate asserting “Obama isn’t even black! He’s only half black!” as if your nomination was nothing to be proud of. I retorted “Okay, but he’s still fifty percent more black than any other president we’ve ever had.” She agreed, and said she hadn’t thought of it like that.

At twelve years old, my political awareness was pretty shallow. All I really knew was that our economy needed to improve, and that we needed to end the war. Our country needed change and hope. It was a lot to ask for, but you promised you could deliver. I was watching television with my parents one night, and one of your political ads came on. (I’d have no way of remembering exactly which one it was, but I’d guess it was similar to this one.) As I looked into your eyes and heard your words, I imagined not worrying anymore - about my parents, about myself, or about my little brother. Again, I began to cry. This time, not out of despair, but out of joy at the thought of you becoming president.

On the day of your inauguration, January 20th, 2009, my school’s headmaster wheeled a television into the auditorium and invited the whole school to watch it broadcast on live television. I’m so glad I was given the opportunity to watch it with my classmates, as well as my teachers, who were much more aware of the implications the election. I recall my favorite English teacher sobbing, overwhelmed with happiness.

In 2012, I was a sophomore in high school, and one of your biggest fangirls. My political priorities at the time were LGBT rights and women’s rights - two areas that Mitt Romney was threatening. I went onto your website and ordered a “Women for Obama” t-shirt, as well as a huge pack of bracelets and buttons. I even would buy coffee from 7/11 just to get the cups with your name on them. I went around to all of my classmates and gave bracelets and buttons away for free to anyone who would wear them. I was also constantly sharing articles and news about your campaign on Facebook which certainly must have annoyed my friends.

Not long before election day, Hurricane Sandy devastated my neighborhood and my home. It had already been a tough year for me, but I was reminded that no matter how bad things are, they can still get worse. I recall you coming to New York and meeting with Mayor Bloomberg and Governor Cuomo - and I could never forget how you worked closely with Governor Christie, who had previously said some pretty horrible things about you.

My home had no electricity or hot water for almost a month. My parents and brother were living with relatives in New Jersey, as our home was uninhabitable. I, however, was living with a classmate in Manhattan so that I didn’t miss any days of school. As the hurricane hit on October 29th, Halloween in Brooklyn was virtually cancelled. My high school had a tradition of allowing students and teachers to wear costumes all day on Halloween, and very happily for me, they postponed our own Halloween celebration to Tuesday, November 6th - which was Election Day. I came to school dressed as Rosie The Riveter, wearing an Obama/Biden button (and yes, I do have a photo). That night, I couldn’t bear to go to bed until the election was called, and it was announced that you would have a second term.

You have been my president for virtually as long as I can remember - from ages twelve to twenty. I can hardly remember having a president who was white, or who opposed equal rights, who supported discrimination - and yet, now at age twenty, I am about to find out.

In light of this year’s election, I have heard several friends exclaim “Why can’t we just have four more years of Obama?” Although I assume you are skeptical about the outcome of Trump’s impending presidency, I don’t assume you’d jump at the chance for another term. Something tells me you and your family may be looking forward to what’s to come after your presidency - perhaps some much-needed community organizing, as you’ve mentioned. I would never go so far as to say that you were a perfect president, and I predict you wouldn’t either. However, you have indeed been a great president. Although I was not old enough to vote for you in either election, throughout these past eight years I have been so proud to have you represent my country. Your presidency was a symbol of progress in America - that although our country had many issues to work through, we were still moving forward.

For at least the next four years, I predict I will find myself longing for this time. However, I know that I must have the courage to fight for change, and maintain hope for the future.

Sincerely,