A slice of Americana

Rainy morning, every day men and women stepping out of their cars and walking toward the entrance of the fire station. An older woman asks for your card or your name and has you sign the roll sheet. A gentleman beside her hands you a large piece of paper. You walk toward a small cubicle and thoughtfully mark your sheet. You walk toward the receptacle and slide your form through the opening. You pick up a sticker and head back to your car. You drive to work and start your day.

It could have been any day and anything. But it wasn't. I voted. It seemed so normal, so everyday but it is the one thing that sets our nation apart. I get to have a say in who I want representing me in two different parts of the government. Just a normal four year occurrence. Just a few minutes of my time. But it is what men fought and died for so long ago. What we stand and revel in at the 4th of July. What we state out allegiance to every time we say the pledge. What we hold so precious when we think of our freedom. A little slice of Americana that is so much bigger than the actual act.