Three days of chores and I’m feeling “chore’d out”. Don’t get me wrong. There’s a great feeling of satisfaction getting an oversized load of stuff hauled off to the dump, getting my dad’s car repaired, moving the fire-pit benches up out of the sure to come snow, putting new tires on Lynne’s car, getting folks to the dentist, the doctor and, oh yes, voting.
Wait a minute. Is voting a “chore”? Of course not, it’s privilege and one I should never take for granted. But it was on “the list” of things to do so I sort of treated it like a chore and ALMOST missed the M2B:) highlight of these three days. I live in a place where my voice matters, where I can cast a ballot, in secret, and choose someone to represent me in matters local, national and international. Though the moment of voting was singular, it’s significance has lingered with me longer than in voting years past. I’m deeply grateful for the freedoms I enjoy. I know there are concerns about freedoms lost and the destruction of our democracy as we’ve known it, but those aren’t my fears this week. I got to vote. It got counted. There will be changes in government with no shots fired, no coup attempts. Even moments of humility and graciousness in victory and defeat. Dare I say it…civility.
I’m choosing to focus on that, and it makes me happy.