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  • Writer's pictureAld Idunn

Breath Held

I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think. With only 45 minutes until my evening class begins, my mind is already jumping ahead. I wonder what's in store. I wonder what can be. Can anything we have done be enough?

4 years ago I made the short trek to my small town hall. I tentatively filled in each bubble and then excitedly fed my ballot into the mouth of the great voting machine. Even as the ding told my ballot was accepted my heart burst with elation. To be finally able to vote! To be an adult!

I wish I could have back the faith I had then. I happily slipped in a meeting with friends before rushing to class thinking, "wow, I really did something that will last."

Instead, I went on a road trip to our local voting station. 45 minutes of anxious chatter ensued as my fiance and I discussed everything and anything that came to mind. Anything... but the election. Finally in the warmth, with privacy walls, I held my breath. Worried about every surface, worried about marriage equality, worried about black lives, worried about worrying... I quickly darkened the bubbles of my ballot. We slipped outside. Giddy with adrenaline I walked to the car. But why. Why giddy? All it made me feel was a need to cry as I remembered 4 years ago.

To be able to vote. To be able to say "I have a voice." I worry if it will matter. With only 35 minutes until my evening class begins, my mind is thinking back to what has been. I wonder, how did he win when our voices cried for her.

Can anything we have done be enough? I don't know. But I vote.

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