I voted!

I proudly pasted the little “I voted” sticker on my shirt and left the polling place. I wanted to wear it to meet my friend for coffee. She took pride in never voting. She said she was finished with the system. Every time I moved, the little sticker came loose. I stuck it back on my shirt several times. Finally I gave up and tossed it in my car’s trash can. I found rock star parking right in front of the coffee shop and . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “I voted.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

7 thoughts on “I voted!”

  1. It was done! I had voted. Where was that feeling of relief I had so eagerly expected? Where was that rush of adrenaline at having refused the big boss’s final offer? I was a rebel…..a fighter. Instead, I was filled with dread. That tiny X on the page meant I could go on strike any time now. No more money coming in. That was the price to pay for standing up for my rights. The labour union said not to worry. But those bills coming in had my name on them.

  2. I voted. Me, my stubborn heart, my witty mind and my long lasting journal keeping my last year between its pages like an old and pettifogging town clerk. I voted no. No to staying in a sleeping town, without any other future than marrying Joe, the plain, good boy from the bakery and having five chubby children in a white house with red flowers in the garden. I hated red. So I voted no.

  3. The big, fat League of Women Voters’ Election Guide sits on the dining room table. Next to it, thicker and denser, the Oregon “Voters’ Pamphlet” detailing intricacies of the endless “measures.” Two envelopes–his and mine. Election Day brings the disappointment of my mail-in ballot. Democracy elsewhere meant standing with neighbors at the polling place, entering a shrine like curtained space, the seriousness of choices. Pleasure with the thought, “I voted,” and pulled the lever to open the curtain. No comparable thrill in licking the envelope closed.

  4. Palms sweating and heart pounding, I folded and inserted the ballot. The sensors on my temples began to sing faintly like a muted bugle. I could feel the eyes of the pollsters. They knew what I had done: broken the status-quo. We all knew what came next. Tires screeched. Doors slammed. Boots hurried toward the door. I sighed and closed my eyes.

  5. I read the registration card over and over. It was official – there was my name, first, middle and last. My address printed in black and white. My polling place… yep, that’s me. I felt giddy with power; my voice suddenly validated. I made a difference, however small, because I voted.

  6. I never miss a chance to vote. I vote in local elections; school board, mayor, fire chief, etc.. I’ve voted in every presidential election since I was eighteen. I was 15 when JFK was elected, but I knew I would’ve voted for him. I’ve never voted for the winner in a presidential election, (not on purpose.) But at the end of the day, when I’ve voted, I reaffirm to myself that I am an American; I exercised my right, I voted.

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