I was having a strange and blurry dream, clouded by dark wisps and images, murky and muddy. There was an out of tune piano making discordant sounds in the distance. I couldn’t grasp any tune, though. Part of me knew it was morning and I could feel myself rising to the surface of sleep and started to come back into my body. To feel the things I’ve become accustomed to in the morning: the small pressure to urinate, the slight back pain, some days, the ache on the left side of my jaw from clenching it for a few hours—but these things bring me back into this body, pulling me from the dream state.

Our bed is comfy and the room is dark. I changed the sheets to the t-shirt, jersey ones a couple of days ago even though the weather is a bit damp now, so it means that I sleep a bit warmer, but maybe a bit too warm. It’s hard to get up.

Zoey, my little dog, who decided to sleep downstairs last night scratches lightly at the bedroom door to be let in. I drag this half awake body off the edge of the bed and open the door. She wanders in, confused: why isn’t everyone awake?

I stay in the bed for another 20 minutes as the morning routines commence. I know I’m getting up to do something, like I do every day, but the something I’m doing today is of utmost importance. In a few minutes, I’m dressed and walking out the door. Opening the car door, sitting for the short drive to the school.

Now we are standing in line. Now Umar is calling out, like a circus barker, “get your sample ballots HERE! know the issues before you get into the booth!” he is amiable and excited. There are maybe 40 people on line in front of us when we join. I expected to feel more electric, standing there. I’m still too sleepy. I shuffle forward and look at the sample ballot and wonder if the money that I can decide where it goes, will really go there? will it do some good if I vote for this Amendment or that? isn’t our Mayor just like almost every other politician in that she’s in the business of staying in business? I stop my cynicism right there. no matter what else I decide today, I know the first and last thing I’ll be looking at his name.

#1BB and I move forward in line. A couple in front of us has brought their young child. What a good idea to bring your kid. Involve them in this process. Umar walks by and thanks us for participating in the democratic process. He tells us we should feel good and proud that we are here today. He has a nice smile and a strong voice. He laughs a lot.

I’m starting to feel nervous—I don’t like electronic voting. It seems fake, and easily tampered with. We move forward in line, now we are inside the gym of the elementary school. I start to realize I wish I hadn’t brought my cup of tea with me, it seems like it’s distracting me. I don’t want to knock it over and I wish I didn’t have anything in my hands! I try to tell myself: relax, you’re an adult, it’s easy, you put the card in, you make your choice, you leave. This is when I realize I’m nervous and that energy has started to activate my brain a little too much.

It is almost our turn to say our names and get our cards. I turn to #1BB and kiss him quickly on the mouth and say “good luck.” Umar is nearby and laughs and says “You are trying to sway his vote! You’re not supposed to do that inside the polling place!” We twitter and smile back, I can’t laugh heartily, i’m concentrating on not crying, suddenly.

I submit my name and I am on the list. I sign my name on a receipt—I showed up, there is now a record of it somewhere. Is it the sleepiness, why am I so emotional? I wait on line again to go the booth. An older man asks for my receipt and directs me to the middle of the row of booths. I see the screen, and insert my card (how easy it is—I’ve been trained well by using my Bank of America card….voting is just like visiting the ATM.) First, I read all the instructions, I do not want something to go wrong. I carefully read each word. I tap “next” and there he is, right at the top. I tap his name and my “X” is bold right next to it. The possibility of X-ing any other name disappears. I’m relieved! Now it’s time to move on—I read over the other questions and vote what I think is best despite the vague and confusing language. I choose not to vote for positions I don’t know about or people I haven’t heard of (accepting that I didn’t bother to learn their names) that are involved in the City Courts. Other, better educated people can take a swing at those because I’m here for one reason and it is done.

It’s the last screen of my ballot and time to review. I read over it and check 4 times (my lucky number) that I have voted for him and that it is correctly marked. Again, tears start to well up, but this time, I don’t try to blink them away too fast. It is okay to be emotional, it’s an important election.

I tap “cast ballot” and realize that’s it. No balloons fall from the ceiling and there is no loud and joyful music. I grab my cup of tea and pull my hat back on so I can cover my eyes a little, they are still tearing up a bit. I walk out of the gym and wait for some feeling of something to come into me. Nothing—I walk out into the still morning weather outside to wait for #1BB. There is Umar again and he says “thank you for coming by” and I say “good luck to us all” and we shake hands. When I am outside, he leans out and says “I’m going to report you!!” and then he laughs “I know that you’re trying to sway voters!!”

I want to walk home, but #1BB says “I’m driving right by there on the way to work, I’ll drop you” so he does and we say good bye in the driveway. I come inside and Morgan and Zoey both are stretching and sleepy, but wagging tails at the door. They greet me as though I’ve been gone for 8 hours rather than 30 minutes. I sit down on the step, hugging them close to me, and try to explain to beings that could not possibly understand that I feel very strongly that today is an important day and that I am hopeful (not yet confident) that I have been a part of something changing for the better. but what do dogs care of the affairs of humans? I have been gone and now I am home, that is all that matters.

I stand up, time to make breakfast, answer emails, make the bed, get outside and see what the world is doing. Or maybe, I’ll just finish my book, mail a package and play some music. Either way, I think it’s going to be a good day.