Voting has always been important to me. I make it a priority, penciling it into my day planner months in advance. There were a few times right after college when I was moving around and missed a few local elections, but I have voted in most local elections and all presidential elections since I have been of legal voting age.
Enter yesterday: It seemed like the odds were stacked against me making it to the polls. I went into work early (6:30 a.m.) to get caught up on a variety of tasks. Around noon, I got a call from daycare that my daughter was sick, which resulted in two hours spent in a busy clinic (hello, tourism season in our small town). I continued to try to handle work via my phone while comforting my poor sick girl, but I was feeling completely inadequate as a mother, as an employee, as a boss, and definitely as a responsible citizen.
I began to really understand why people don’t vote. I was busy and drained. The thought of one more item on my task list was enough to bring me tears. I even told myself the thing…you know…My vote won’t even count.
I needed Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton to show up and give me a swift kick in the rear. And that’s (sort of) what happened. I began to think about the brave women who fought really hard so that women like me could have a say. It wasn’t that long ago that I wouldn’t have. When they were being degraded for speaking up and arrested for trying to be equal, they weren’t “too busy.” So I decided I wasn’t either. Less than an hour before the polls closed, I did it. I voted.
A HOUSE WITH CHARACTER 