I’m scared. Again. Still. I’m tempted to just hide out here in comfort with the wood stove, the shows to binge-watch, my job, my music. But I have to be proactive, and I invite you to join me.
Once the ballot is marked, the clock-wise circumnavigation of the room continues. The poll warden pauses her knitting to ceremoniously slide open the giant, locked, wooden ballot box and slide it shut again.
While it would have been easier to leave Pen with a babysitter (heads up, North Haven teens – you would make a killing setting up some sort of play time during town meeting), I wanted her to see the nitty gritty work that makes a town function.