Non-fiction Voting

We, the People

I began writing about my voting experience and, for whatever reason, it came out as a personal narrative instead of my usual ramble. It wasn’t quite suited for posting on Puddles. I’ll post fragments here, since the whole thing is rather stream of conscious and hard to follow (and edit!). The result is quite brief, perfect for those who are short on time!

I enjoyed watching the faces of those walking out of the polling building while I stood in line awaiting the chance to exact my own civic duty. Small smiles appeared on many of these faces. I tried to look closer without being too obvious. Also etched on these faces I found a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. “I’ve had my say,” the faces seemed to say.

The mood at 6:05 this morning at the Bloomington North High School polling station was affable. The line stretched out of the doors and into the chilly morning. In the darkness, the lights from the parking lot and the warm glow emanating from the building lit the faces of those standing in line. Everyone looked so… human. It must be the shared experience of voting that inspires this camaraderie. We have a say about our futures and we were happy to be exercising our power. No one in line was talking politics. Instead we chatted about the weather, “It’s going to be another beautiful day,” or some other light topic. Everyone had made up their minds regarding this election. We were ready to have this whole business done and decided so that we could move on with our lives.

I suppose I cannot presume to know what others in line were thinking and feeling; I can only know what I experienced. Nonetheless, there was something stirring about the image of us standing quite close to one another in line: we, the people, against the cold darkness.