Missing

I have missed that voice. I have missed the way he builds a speech, the way he draws us in, the way he makes you feel as if he's sitting at your table, talking, over an everyday meal. I miss the feeling that he cares deeply about whatever he may be talking about. I miss him.

I miss the way he walks: sure and steady, how he skips down the steps, how he stops to answer questions, how he sees people, how he responds. I miss seeing him light up when he sees a child, how he knows instinctively how to hold a baby or talk to a toddler. I miss him stooping to their level to speak face to face.

I miss the pride in his face when his wife, his daughters, his friends speak, when they are honored, when they are congratulated. I miss the naturalness of his demeanor, his willingness to discuss, his ability to disarm with a smile, with a pause, with a sudden burst of song. I miss the spontaneity and the charm.

I heard him on the radio just the other day, paying tribute to John Lewis. His was the voice I listened to, and sat in my car, parked at the supermarket, to hear through. I haven't done that in a long while. In almost four years. It was such a pleasure to hear a thoughtful message, delivered well, something meaningful and purposeful and true.

I miss being proud of him, and of my country. I want that feeling back, and my best chance for that is his friend, Joe Biden.