The energy in the room was palpable.

The election results were about to be announced.

An old man sat in the corner of the room, in a wheel chair. A veteran's hat sat tilted atop his head. He wore a blue tie and a suit jacket.

He surveyed the crowd of mostly young people. They were excited. They were alive, really alive. He had stood in that crowd once.

His hair was now grey, his body worn from years of life experience.

He clasped his hands in his lap and waited.

State by state, the numbers were reported in.

Red. Blue. Red. Blue.

At the end of the night, the result was blue.

He didn't jump or cheer. He left that to the younger activists.

He closed his eyes and began to cry. His country, the country he had fought for, would never be the same.

He felt change. Finally.