A little over eight years ago, I stood at a polling station in the Clarendon neighborhood of Arlington, Virginia and thought long and hard about the vote I'd cast.
One choice was Hillary Clinton, a woman of tremendous accomplishment and rich experience whose decades in the public spotlight had been hard on her.
The other choice was Barack Obama, a young candidate with much less experience, but whose vision and soaring rhetoric were igniting renewed passion and hope in a nation sorely lacking those things.
No matter what choice I made, one of these candidates would make history: Barack, as the first black man to be a major party candidate; Hillary, as the first woman.
I voted for Barack. I've thought about that choice every day since.