It’s like that first day of stepping into your first class at university. The pavement seems profoundly hard, books smell particularly sweet. Your heart is bursting with a sense of expectation mingled with a healthy dollop of terror. Several years later and a lifetime coupon for Creamora and No Doz, you made it through the portal and managed to land feet first into the real world, ready to embark upon a career of changing that world. There’s a call gnawing inside with eyes of a broken child, peering into yours and grasping at your heart.
The huddled masses becomes your mantra and after marching for human rights, somewhere along the road your sneakers were replaced with smart looking heels or wing-tips. Before you know it, that’s your face on a lit drop piece, telling the world how you are the one. The right woman or the right man for the job. A thousand handshakes, speeches, forums, television ads, talk shows, interviews, poking and prying into the deepest crevices of your life later, you stop one morning and wonder, where’s that feeling you had on that first day.
Books don’t smell as sweet and your heart is bursting from heartburn from indulging in too many hors d’oeuvres at too many meet and greets. If only you could just be still for a moment and listen to your hair grow.
It’s raining. It’s too early. It’s too late. No matter, you must arise and awake and head out to once again face another day of huddled masses waiting for you, eager to hear your words. The words they hunger for with an unparalleled expectation that your words will ease their individual and collective plight.
What drives you the candidate to be there no matter what? It is that call within that was there even before that first day. It is that relentless call that will not be still will not be silent and will continue to call you until you answer. Like the call, the answer is in your heart. It is not your wallet, your glossy eight by ten, that matters to us the voter. It is what is in your heart that matters to us most.