From this day on, no child born in this country will ever know an America that didn't have a black president.

Let that sink in for a moment.

From George Washington to George W. Bush, the fabric of the American presidency in its 220-year history had one common thread: The officeholders were all white men. Never had a house seemingly been more aptly named than the one each president has called home since 1800.

Everything changed at 12:05 p.m. Tuesday, when Barack Obama put his hand on Lincoln's Inaugural Bible and took the oath of office as America's 44th president. It changed in ways that might not be fully realized until long after Mr. Obama leaves office in four or eight years.

Before Tuesday's final confirmation of what happened more than two months ago, the presidency always had been the ultimate glass ceiling for all children of color. Parents could tell them they could be anything they wanted to be, but deep in their hearts they knew this to be a lie.

With visualization being a key to realization, the lack of diversity in the White House was telling every African-American, Latino, Native American and Asian child that there were limits to their aspirations.

That's why the election of Mr. Obama represents something so much more than breaking down racial barriers. It goes to the heart of living up to what the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. called "a promissory note" that the Constitution and Declaration of Independence guaranteed all citizens.

Life. Liberty. The pursuit of happiness. All men are created equal.

Today, for many Americans, these are no longer just words on a faded parchment that had no true connection to the way things worked in the real world. The ideals are now closer to being more than just that.

A friend of mine told me Monday that her 10-year-old granddaughter was going to dress up as Michelle Obama on Tuesday. She was going to portray the nation's first black first lady at a school event celebrating the inaugural.

To be it, sometimes you have to be able to see it.

After Mr. Obama was elected Nov. 4, I didn't really know how to feel.

Like many people who grew up during segregation and had seen America at its racial worst, I was happy to see a nation that now seemed to fully embrace the notion of perfecting its union. But, unlike so many others, I didn't shed any tears then.

I couldn't say that Tuesday.