One Moment in Time

On a crisp November morning, with the threat of rain looming high overhead, I stand in line outside of a school in SE Washington DC with hundreds of neighbors. We are ready to vote -- only, I can't remember seeing this many people four years ago. My mind began to wander as my phone buzzed incessantly with ridiculous text messages that either encouraged me to vote or implored me to be aware of corruption at the polls.

Isn't rain a symbol of cleansing and purifying; preparation for change? Could be some symbolism there.

I'm ecstatic that so many people have registered and are practicing their right to vote. I attempt here to use my right to free speech, with caution. Since I have yet to earn my living as a result of my words, I have to censor myself. Anyway, here goes.

Point #1 -- I don't care WHY you registered to vote. I don't care WHO you vote for. I only care THAT you vote. However, I consider it inappropriate to ask, "Did you vote?" In seems similar to asking if you said your prayers -- and we know that's inappropriate here in the politically correct USA.

Point #2 -- As a Black female, I realize this is a history-making moment and I'm overly thrilled to live it. However, I don't expect a Black prize in the mail. There have been so many connections drawn to the Black community that it belittles the Civil Rights movement -- you know, that we NOT be judged based on the color of our skin. Hmmm, wouldn't that make voting for Obama because he's Black...ok, I'll leave that alone.

Point #3 -- If the same number of people would have come out to vote 4 years ago, we may not have had another term of Bush.

All points aside, there was a moment, one moment after I had my ID checked and signed for my ballot. One moment, after I'd read my instructions and picked up my pencil. One moment after I read the names for the Presidential candidates. One moment, when I, exercised my right as an American to make my mark. At that moment, I've never felt more sure of myself.