I love election day. I always have. Even when the outcome falls away from my vote.
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Yesterday we spent the morning at my Mom's house, waiting for Leon at preschool so we could go vote.
We drove to the elementary school and cast our ballot while the children shuffled by. It was quick and easy. And powerful. And it felt good.
The rest of the afternoon was intense. I paced, I cleaned, I made calls, sent texts, read polls, stayed glued to Wolf Blitzer, cursed and worried, waiting anxiously for those numbers to start rolling in.
We ate pizza and friends stopped in. We waited, and waited, and debated and predicted. Arlo took note. Drawing suddenly closer to the room where the TV held us all pinned to those strange neon maps and round table discussions. He asked questions. Lots and lots of questions.
I concluded the night would be a long one, I headed upstairs to bathe the boys. Not long after Mike was calling, claiming the seat had been called & that I missed it.
I missed it. My favorite part. The projection. The winner, called by Wolf Blitzer.
The outcome made me want to jump and scream and pound the streets with raw, unapologetic pride in what we did. I wanted banners, and horns, and champange. Instead I waited alone watching it all wrap up downstairs with the dog. Exhausted, elated, excited.
It was a good night.
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