I don't know why I didn't post this here last year. It was a social media memory for me today which gave me the chance to revisit this writing.
By Rebecca Longtin
It had been a restless night
as bits and pieces of dreams
and a flare of pain in my hip
repeatedly brought me awake.
Up before the alarm,
I dressed in my pink human rights shirt.
Today would be the last time
I voted as a Klamert,
in a pivotal election
that had the world on the edges of their seats.
Clouds hung low and heavy
obscuring the tops of buildings.
A light rain nourished the earth.
Setting out on foot,
the sounds of traffic
quickly masked the pitter patter
of the rain hitting the hood of my poncho.
Drops dripped down my bangs
and fell onto my cheeks,
divine tears reminding me of her presence.
Reaching my polling place,
the lines were long
as they snaked through the gym
and criss-crossed one another.
Neighbors, friends, and family
waited in solidarity
for the chance to make their voices heard.
Finally, with an “I voted” sticker in hand,
I walked out the door
and retraced my steps through the rain.
It had been a restless night
as bits and pieces of dreams
and a flare of pain in my hip
repeatedly brought me awake.
Up before the alarm,
I dressed in my pink human rights shirt.
Today would be the last time
I voted as a Klamert,
in a pivotal election
that had the world on the edges of their seats.
Clouds hung low and heavy
obscuring the tops of buildings.
A light rain nourished the earth.
Setting out on foot,
the sounds of traffic
quickly masked the pitter patter
of the rain hitting the hood of my poncho.
Drops dripped down my bangs
and fell onto my cheeks,
divine tears reminding me of her presence.
Reaching my polling place,
the lines were long
as they snaked through the gym
and criss-crossed one another.
Neighbors, friends, and family
waited in solidarity
for the chance to make their voices heard.
Finally, with an “I voted” sticker in hand,
I walked out the door
and retraced my steps through the rain.
