The Victor

The sun rose over the sea of campaign signs in front of the church.  Like mushrooms after a rain, they had sprung up the day before the election. The election was now over but the signs remained.

In a hotel room twenty miles away, a candidate woke up with a killer headache. It had been a hard-fought campaign. He had traveled nearly 70,000 miles since the campaigning began and his body felt it. He was no spring chicken.  And today he felt fried.

But he had won.  That took away a lot of his fatigue.

He had won by promising his donors what they wanted. He had won by making cliched promises to the voters.  When it came to the art of pandering, he was Picasso.  Now he faced a more daunting task: Leadership. He had to lead.  As much as he wanted to just please the small majority of people who had voted for him yesterday, he realized he had to represent 100% of the people in his district.  It was the difference between being a leader and being a political hack.

His head hurt.

He walked into the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face and looked into the mirror.  Did he have it in him? Could he make Mississippi a better place?  Playing politics was so much easier.  Tackling historical problems like poverty and educational woes loomed over him.  What could he do to get people back to work? How could he attract jobs to an area that needed them like the desert needs rain?

He had won. He had achieved his dream. But like most dreams, he had to eventually wake up.  He had to wake up and lead.

He took two ibuprofen and made some coffee. The next four years would define who he was as a person.  It was time for him to rise to the occasion.

Maybe later. He laid back down and drifted off back off to sleep. He’d be in the Capitol facing problems soon enough.  It was time to once again bask in his victory.

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One Response to The Victor

  1. parrotmom says:

    Like!!!

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