There is no doubt our nation’s capitol is a place all Americans must visit at least once — if for no other reason than to see the sweeping marble architecture of a city that sparkles with life and history. That is, of course, to say nothing of the treasures it holds — the Smithsonian, the Vietnam War Memorial, and the Lincoln Memorial, to name a few. To a group of teenagers from New Technology High School, such things were fascinating and interesting (although it must be noted that in some places, more time was spent in awe of such strange things as snow and ice — we are California kids, after all).

As we walked down Pennsylvania Avenue on our second day there, led by our pink-clad German tour guide Marta, I could feel that something about being in Washington at this particular time was special. It could merely have been the presence of an estimated 2 million to 5 million people. It could have been the talks my friends and I had with other visitors who told us whether the current snowfall would stick as we waited in line to speak with Rep. Mike Thompson at his office. It could even have been the hushed silence and the tears in my eyes when I listened to the story of the old veteran at the Vietnam War Memorial. Whatever it was, there was something extra special about being in Washington, D.C. for those particular five days.

The morning of the inauguration dawned as most any other January morning in D.C. does — freezing cold. I can’t speak for anyone else, but to me it is something akin to torture to make a bunch of students wake up at four in the morning in 7-degree weather.  I must be truthful, though, our waking up at such an hour did have a purpose. The bus ride from our hotel in Baltimore was a long one, particularly with all the other traffic on the road. Our bus also had to drop us off a couple of miles from the National Mall, where we’d be standing for the inauguration (it should be noted that we didn’t have tickets, just very dedicated teachers and tour guides).

 It took us a bit more than an hour just to get to the National Mall, where our big group of students split off into smaller groups to find places to stand in the crowd. There were enormous Jumbotrons set up so we could see, and my group of seven found a spot not too far back from one of them. The seven of us huddled in a circle, four guys and three girls, all seniors, all with virtually identical looks of abject horror at the cold. (Later, I checked using a friend’s laptop — at 7 that morning, when we first found our standing place, it had been 13 degrees Fahrenheit.)

We stood quietly for a while, taking in the sight of the thousands of people around us. Some were amazingly kind, like the woman standing next to me who offered me a blanket when she saw me shivering. Others weren’t so friendly, like the woman in pink who stood on a chair in front of us and refused to step down when we politely told her we couldn’t see (thanks, ma’am!). But a common thread of anticipation and excitement hung in the air. There was a feeling of solidarity, of belonging, no matter what color, gender, or campaign T-shirt anyone was wearing.  

Then it was finally time. The moment we heard the announcer’s voice over the speakers, talking ceased. The cold was forgotten. Thoughts of our hunger and our tiredness of Pop-Tarts and pretzels immediately left our minds. A low buzz, a hum of excitement, raced through the crowd like millions of eager bees. The oaths began — first Joe Biden’s, then Barack Obama’s. They were old words, short ones, and yet they seemed filled with promise, a hope of a better future and a brighter tomorrow. The cheers that followed were deafening, and from where we stood, all we could see was a sea of red, white and blue rippling over the heads of everyone standing in the National Mall.

Then Obama spoke, and it was like time stopped. They say he spoke for 18.5 minutes. It felt like seconds. Every ear was attuned to what he was saying, even though the audio didn’t line up with the video on the Jumbotron. Every face was turned towards the Capitol, even though Obama wasn’t even a speck on its balcony. Every body stood perfectly still, even though the other people pressed up against them were complete strangers. The cheers that followed some of President Obama’s phrases were succinct, because we all hung on his every word. I tore myself away, once, to look at my fellow students, and saw matching expressions of rapture, hope, and inspiration. We were here. We were watching history be made, a new era being born, a new president taking office at a time when all bets were off. We were witnesses of our future.

“The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit,” President Obama said, and a low murmur of “amen” came from people around me. I could feel my eyes tearing up; I looked to my left and the eyes of the people around me were equally shiny and damp with tears. It occurred to me, in that moment, how much work our country has ahead of it. If we could bring all these people from all these walks of life together for this, the inauguration of not only a new president, but a new era, could we not bring them together in all things? If we could stand together in a crowd of millions, but still be concerned about each individual, could we not do the same in a crowd of only a few? “Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America,” President Obama said.

Yes, we can.

Yes, we will.

Phoebe Harper is a senior at New Technology High School in Napa. She and other New Tech students traveled to the inauguration on President Barack Obama. Harper, aka pharper when she signs in to make story comments online at NapaValleyRegister.com, agreed to write up her inauguration thoughts for an online column.