To the Polls

For everything that may be wrong with modern-day political campaigns, the democratic process of citizens casting a vote is the bright light at the end of the tunnel.

So early on this chilly November morning, with one child riding in her stroller and the other walking beside his sister asking a hundred questions, I headed into my polling station to cast mine.

The little boy was disappointed that we didn’t immediately find out the winner.

I imagine that voting seemed like a major let-down in his eyes. I mean we went and stood in line so that his mother could connect a few arrows on a sheet of paper to have the voting machine reject her ballot because she accidentally connected two lines in the same category. That meant she had to fill out another ballot and then, when finished, it was all done.

Nothing to show for it besides a sticker, and the sticker didn't even have a cool superhero or a dinosaur on it.

While it wasn’t exciting for him, I must admit that I get a giddy feeling every time I vote. Not that my vote matters much in terms of the electoral college in our state for most presidential elections. Nevertheless, it makes me feel like my one small voice contributed in some way.

Tonight we’re watching the numbers as they come in. 

The little boy knows who my vote was cast for. He’s pulling for the other guy, though, because he wants to add the number 45 to the list of presidents he routinely quizzes us all about.

If it was all that simple…