Barely 24 hours to go before the start of Barack Obama's presidency and I'm as nervous for the man as I was when I convinced myself that Middle America might shy away from voting for him.
Why so? Partly, like a lot of other people I bump into, I still fear the sniper's bullet. It remains so extraordinary to see a black family on that presidential train from Philadelphia to Washington – a source of pride and hope to many, of bitterness and outrage to some, so I imagine.
But even more daunting is the burden of expectation on the new president and his incoming administration among people around the world, most of whom don't usually take much interest in politics, but know urgent things need to be done to tackle the global economy, Palestine, poverty, climate change.
Again, most of the interest is positive, couched in terms of hope and possibility. At a stretch you could choose to interpret the extraordinary sight of those United Airways passengers standing on the wing of their plane in the freezing Hudson river as a promising omen.
But someone somewhere is sure to do something nasty to try bring Obama down to earth this week: "Hey, what makes you think you're special?"
Speculation about what the man will do is now pointless. I've been content to accept his "only one president at a time" mantra. But we'll start getting answers soon enough. In any case, the only question worth asking of anyone taking up the demanding reins of government is: "Can they do it?" Fine rhetoric and campaign skills are not enough.
With that in mind I tucked away what I regard as a quirky but upbeat anecdote that a friend brought home from November's campaign trail in the US. A version of this story surfaced on the FiveThirtyEight.com blog during the campaign.
A woman she knew had been helping get out the vote on polling day and knocked at a door in a poor, white neighbourhood. Did they intend to vote, the canvasser asked the woman of the house?
Yes. And for whom? "Ah dunno. I'll ask ma husband. Honey, lady at the door wants to know who we're votin' for?"
Voice from the kitchen: "Tell her we're voting for the nigger."
"Ma husband says we're voting for the nigger."
You can read that story several ways, but I choose to read it optimistically. Not as another yarn about prejudice, the dark side of America's history – experienced both at home and around the wider world – but of ancient prejudice frankly acknowledged and then overcome in the voting booth on 4 November.
Now for the hard bit.
