The First Tuesday In November

Growing up Election day was like a holiday.
Schools were always closed.

My mom would wake me up early in the morning and we would go out for breakfast. The local diner was always filled with older men and women, police officers coming off and going on shift, and other parents and children enjoying their day together.

We sit at a booth near the front. I order my standard chocolate chip pancakes. Sitting here writing this, I can distinctly remember the way they tasted, so sweet that no syrup was necessary. While we ate, my mom would tell me how important it was to vote; because others don't have the freedom. That she hadn't missed voting in an election since she was old enough to cast her ballot.

Our talks never got political, even when I was old enough to understand the issues. Not because the issues weren't important, of course they were. It was because to my mother, voting was such a sacred thing that to her it didn't matter who you backed, as long as you voted. Although that didn't necessarily mean she wouldn't argue with you.... she did plenty of that.

After breakfast we would drive to the elementary school where my mom would vote. We'd park the car and she'd take my hand as we walked into the cafeteria. When I was too young to sit alone, she bring me into the voting booth. I remember peeking under the curtain to see what was happening on the other side. After a few minutes Mom would say, "Would you like to pull the lever?" And with that, we were on our way home.

Today I cast my first non- absentee ballot.
While walking to my polling place, all of the memories of past election days came rushing back. Something felt weird. Something just wasn't right.

I got to the school. Stated my name. Got my ballot. Filled it in and placed it in the machine.

There was no peeking underneath the curtain.
There was no lever.
There were no pancakes.

All of a sudden I was an adult.
I walked out of the building and up the street.
And immediately called my mother.
Because dammit, I voted.