My Sticker

I got my sticker this morning. 

I will not be wearing it today.

You see, I woke up while it was still mostly dark outside. I stumbled around my room as I grabbed what I wanted to wear this morning because I was too sleepy to remember to turn on the light. 

Historically, if the two of us got up that early, it was because something special was planned that day. 

In many ways, it was. 

But it didn’t feel that way at the time.

He woke up before me, even though we agreed on the time we were getting up. Part of that is on me for forgetting to set my alarm, even though I stayed up late and watched Dixville Notch—all six inhabitants—vote at midnight. It was fun to watch it kick off with an accordion player and watch a golden retriever pace back and forth between the six residents and the reporters who outnumbered the townspeople! 

Where was I? 

Ah yes. He didn’t wake me up. The sound of his electric razor did, though, and I think that’s what got me off on the wrong foot this morning. You know, those mornings when it feels like you got up on the wrong side of the bed and are tempted to get back into bed and get up on the other side? 

That was me. 

I strongly considered it. 

But I did end up in line before the polls opened. I had consumed about half my morning coffee and had a mildly grumpy attitude. It didn’t help that some people in line were looking at others, rolling their eyes, and speaking in hushed tones as if we were “less than.” One looked me in the eye and smiled right after looking at us and whispering to their companion. I just looked back, raised an eyebrow, and then checked to see if I had buttoned my jacket wrong. 

It has a zipper. 

I definitely should have had more coffee. 

I chatted in line with a lovely woman; the conversation was a real treat. We discussed where we grew up and the New England towns we love. 

We did not talk about politics. 

When it was my turn to get my ballot, I sort of forgot about my husband. This was my time. My vote. 

My sticker. 

Then we found each other by the doors and left the building hand in hand. We never talk about who we vote for—we rarely do. Our core values are the same, but one of us leans more left, and one leans more right. 

Perhaps we canceled each other’s votes, or maybe we voted the same. 

So, yes, I voted this morning. And if you live in the US, I hope you did, too. 

No, I’m not talking about “sides.” 

I’m talking about our country. We are making a major decision today, and no matter who wins, many emotions will collide from coast to coast. 

So, I’m putting my sticker in my treasure box. The one filled with cards, ticket stubs, photos, and other cherished memories. I’ll write the year on the back and tuck it in safely. 

Someday, when I go through it with my grandchild, I will tell them, “That was the day I remembered that no matter who won, my vote counted. It was my right, earned by strong people that came before me. It was also the day I was reminded that no matter who won, it wouldn’t change who I am or what I truly believe in.”

Llivin’ La Vida Llama