I had a habit that developed into a tradition of always voting in person for presidential elections. That means this is the year I will break one of my most beloved traditions. I hope I get the chance to renew it in four years.

I do it because I enjoy watching everyone who’s standing in line with me. It’s usually a diverse group — female and male, young and old, racially and ethnically mixed, students and professionals, privileged and poor. We rarely speak to each other and aren’t likely to hang out together anytime soon. But what we all have in common is the willingness to stand and wait anywhere from 15 minutes to several hours to exercise our right to vote. I’ve always found that reassuring.

So it gave me some comfort to see those long lines of early voters, to see that kind of commitment to voting. And for them to be able to look around and know they weren’t alone. That’s why we’ll win.

~Jassa Skott

My World

 I miss my world
 I miss rolling down my window to feel
 the brisk 7:00am air
 as the sun comes up over the mountains
 on my drive to Golden
 the bite of Santiago’s spicy breakfast burritos
 brought as a Friday surprise by a kind co-worker
 the sound of my own voice
 complaining about the bottleneck
 that is Colorado Boulevard
 feeling sanctimonious as I wait every weekend
 in the long line for Sunday brunch
 at The Universal
 planning trips to Amsterdam, Budapest and 
 the plains of Mongolia
 that I’m never going to take
 whining that I can’t find a parking space
 within 15 feet of the Safeway entrance
 cursing at college students as they zip by on skateboards 
 almost knocking me down
 on their way to changing the world
 When we’re us again
 if that ever happens
 and even if we end up being something new
 I hope I hope I hope I am someone
 who knows the value of eyes that see
 who learns before she criticizes
 who remembers to listen instead of just
 impatiently waiting to speak
 who passes money to panhandlers
 instead of cheap judgment
 who never passes a hospital again
 without whispering a prayer for everyone inside
 and most of all
 as Eliot hoped
 who arrives back where she started
 and knows the place for the first time

 by Cynthia Bowling
 March 27, 2020

for lydia christine

I wish I had talked to my mother about singing. I mean really talked — what it felt like to get lost in a song; how old she was when she realized the power of her voice; what drew her … Continue reading