I walked to the front steps for a break, looked up at the sky, and marveled at the irony of the cloudless skies in Boston, the comfortable temperature, the calm, the quiet; more quite than usual. It seemed I was not the only one stuck inside soaking up the screen rays instead of the sun rays that day. Still, I was restless. Back inside, I saw I hadn't missed a thing. I began to believe it was over, but the hollow feeling remained. That's when I remembered it was election day.
Among the many things I am (admittedly and unadmittedly), is I am a voter. If there is an election on, I'm there. September 11 was the day of the 9th Congressional District special election primary in Massachusetts, a relatively nondescript election, if ever there was one. Nonetheless, I felt a powerful need to vote; this simple act is so central to our way of life. In the United States, we enjoy the freedom to determine our own future in a way that people in few other countries can. Even then, our representatives disagree, deadlock or deceive us, but we can always start again.
So I finally ditched the sweats, dressed up and walked to the poll.
Photo by Sister72 on Flickr