Wednesday was the first time ever I was able to watch a presidential swearing-in ceremony end to end. Who knew? I felt practically patriotic binge-watching TV. Despite the fact that so many of us in this country have been drastically limiting our public excursions, this inauguration still felt like a surprisingly communal event, like we were channeling each other from afar.

I, like many, had a lingering sense of foreboding. The razor wire and unbroken ring of National Guard troops around the perimeter of the Mall were an ominous reminder of why. But I took a deep breath and joined with my fellow Americans for the turning of a page in our democracy. 

The visual images will stay with me for a long time. The new president standing tall and erect; Jill Biden in turquoise with just the right amount of understated bling; Kamala Harris in her gorgeous coat with her approachable smile and authoritative demeanor. The president and vice president flanked by their families. These are families that have experienced death, heartbreak, divorce, and other life events many of us know keenly but still find ways to bond, and move forward. And they do.

Our leaders and former presidents of both parties (with a few glaring absences) were gathered attentively. Familiar anthems were belted out by larger-than life stars we all feel we know. The new president spoke forthrightly about the challenges we face, but offered solutions that actually seem workable if we put down our swords.

And there was that spectacular poem by my new favorite poet, Amanda Gorman. Her profile reminded me of a regal Queen Nefertiti, who ruled with the Pharaoh – many believe coequally – more than 3,000 years ago. Amanda’s yellow coat and brilliant red headband told us that we could still “find light in this never-ending shade.” It a was impossible not to be moved, especially as the sun broke through the clouds.  

The modeling of appropriate social behavior visibly started from the top, on the spot. Adherence to public health principles, and the explicit acknowledgment of the science behind the pandemic, replaced denial and deceit about the challenges the virus among us poses. Instead of seeming draconian, it seemed like the right thing to do.

It was repeatedly called an inauguration “like no other.” Instead of throngs of citizens, there could be no fabrication about crowd size. We were all represented by an orderly but stunning rainbow of flags, cloth waving in the steady breeze. It’s remarkable that I felt counted, but I think many of us did. And that’s the first truth of what I hope will be many truths to follow.

I vividly recall waiting for my flight in the Manchester airport in January 2016, watching the inaugural address from a TV monitor, elbow to elbow with dozens of fellow travelers (remember those days?).

I can’t be sure about the political persuasions of the crowd, but there were no smiles, even among those few with MAGA hats. The dystopian rhetoric was a grim foreshadowing of events to come.

But, four long years later, here we are. We have an opportunity to change all that. In Amanda Gorman’s words, “For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.”

(Millie LaFontaine of Concord is a retired neurologist.)