voting

The election day worker stops me as soon as I get inside the door.


"Your district?"


I'm blank.  Did I know this two years ago?


He points to a map spread over the table.


"Where do you live?" he asks.


I point, vaguely, and give my address.  


"That's north of here," I say, meaning the polling place.


"No, that's south," he says, directing me to the proper table.


I give the next election worker my name and address.  She opens the book.  I don't notice my name, but the one adjacent, the one with the unmistakable precise signature.


Richard S. Galik


It has been a hard morning anyway, and now I try not to drip on government documents.


In elections past, his fresh signature would have been there ahead of mine; he always voted early, before work.  Today it will remain blank.


"Sign here," she says.


I do.


She frowns.


"This isn't your signature," she says.


Huh?


She points at my official marking; it's legible, must be from years ago, with no resemblance to my new scrawl.


"Do you have ID?" she asks.


She scrutinizes the driver's license, still not fully convinced, I can tell.  I've changed since that photo was taken, too.


"Do you want to make this your new signature?" she says, at last.  "So you won't be asked next time."


"By then it will change again," I say.


She tears off the ballot and hands it over, satisfied she has done her duty and is now rid of this odd duck.


I fill in the circles.  I obediently then proceed to the scanning machine that will eat my opinion and confirm it was digested.


But a woman is ahead of me, in prolonged conversation with another election day worker.  They're discussing the woman's watch, how pretty it is, where did you get it, oh, I've had it forever...


"Get a move on!" a man's voice bellows, behind me.  "You're holding up the line!"


The election worker jumps.


"I hope you know her," she says to him.


"For 47 years I've lived with her.  I can say anything I want," he says.


I feed the form to the machine, and say nothing.


Two years ago we voted for change and hope.  Change?  Rich and I got it.  Hope?  I'm on my own. 


Candace