A

s fall continued, Barack and I began making plans for our move to a new
house in January, having decided to stay in Washington so that Sasha could finish
high school at Sidwell. Malia, meanwhile, was in South America on a gap-year
adventure, feeling the freedom of being as far away from the political intensity as
she could. I implored my staff in the East Wing to finish strong, even as they
needed to think about finding new jobs, even as the battle between Hillary
Clinton and Donald Trump grew more intense and distracting by the day.

On November 7, 2016, the evening before the election, Barack and I made
a quick trip to Philadelphia to join Hillary and her family at a final rally before an
enormous crowd on Independence Mall. The mood was positive, expectant. I
took heart in the optimism Hillary projected that night, and in the many polls
that showed her with a comfortable lead. I took heart in what I thought I
understood about the qualities Americans would and wouldn’t tolerate in a
leader. I presumed nothing, but I felt good about the odds.

For the first time in many years, Barack and I had no role to play on election
night. There was no hotel suite reserved for the wait; there were no trays of
canapés laid out, no television blaring from any corner. There was no hair,
makeup, or wardrobe to be tended to, no marshaling of our children, no late-
night speech being prepped for delivery. We had nothing to do, and it thrilled us.
This was the beginning of our stepping back, a first taste of what the future might
be like. We were invested, of course, but the moment ahead wasn’t ours. It was
merely ours to witness. Knowing it would be a while before results came in, we
invited Valerie over to watch a movie in the White House theater.

I can’t remember a thing about the film that night—not its title, not even its
genre. Really, we were just passing time in the dark. My mind kept turning over
the reality that Barack’s term as president was almost finished. What lay ahead
most immediately were good-byes—dozens and dozens of them, all emotional, as
the staff we loved and appreciated so much would begin to rotate out of the
White House. Our goal was to do what George and Laura Bush had done for us,
making the transition of power as smooth as possible. Already, our teams were
beginning to prepare briefing books and contact lists for their successors. Before
they left, many East Wing staffers would leave handwritten notes on their desks,
giving a friendly welcome and a standing offer of help to the next person coming
along.

We  were    still   immersed    in  the business    of  every   day,    but we’d    also    started to