Voting Day – I Miss the Agony

Voting Way InVoting Day was an inevitable agony when I used to enter the polling booth with two young, rambunctious sons. Not only was I afraid my toddler would wander aimlessly through the building if I didn’t clutch his hand tightly to keep him reined in, but I was even more afraid that my indefatigable and excessively curious 6-year old would reach up to press a button, pull a lever, or hang on the end of the voting booth like monkey bars, thereby embarrassing me and casting his own inadvertent, slap happy vote at the same time.

I always wondered how I would explain that to the election monitor.

“That was not MY vote. Can I do it again? And please can I borrow a small cage for 3 minutes?”

Fortunately, I always had the motivation and strength of arm to vote quickly and exit the polling place with sons, booth, and most of my sanity intact.

This Voting Day, there were no kids in the polling place. I saw no harried mothers trying to keep their little darlings from wreaking devastation and humiliation.  It disappointed me.

Now that my boys are grown, voting is too easy. I just walk in, sign in, read a few screens, ponder a few decisions, press a few buttons, and wave goodbye to the poll workers. That’s it. I don’t need a leash, a cage or deep breathing exercises to get through the experience.

After I voted this time, I was heading back to my car when I saw two boys, probably brothers, walking across the parking lot. It looked like they were walking home from school and had just bought drinks at the nearby convenience store. They were carrying plastic cups, sipping through straws and talking about whatever brothers talk about.

I suddenly missed my own boys and wished for a fleeting minute that they were little again. I smiled, remembering the days when doing my civic duty was crazy, frantic and nerve wracking.

I had the sudden urge to say something to those boys in the parking lot. I wanted to make them promise that they would vote when they got older. I didn’t talk to them, though. No telling how they would have reacted if a middle-aged mom in running pants and sneakers stopped them in the middle of the parking lot to ask a dumb question.

Instead, I sent a text message to both of my sons reminding them to vote.

I didn’t mention that someday, if either of them have kids of their own, I want to be in the polling place on Voting Day to watch them.

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photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/44124404848@N01/12563361″>Polling Station</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>(license)</a>

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