The last synapse, or how I fell for Hillary, literally

Today has been a day of anticipation and hope. For the first time ever, I voted for a woman running for president of these United States. But I had to wait all day to do it, until after Hubby got off work. I had a slight butterflies-in-stomach feeling all day, kind of like how you feel during those few minutes between peeing on the stick and finding out if you’re pregnant or not. If you’re a girl, that is. Or maybe it’s the same for guys, I don’t know. But I digress. It was a long day. But half-way through my day I saw something that just thrilled my little heart-a group of Hillary supporters holding placards and cheering at a major intersection in midtown. One of the ladies smiled and waved and pointed at her homemade “Vote for Hillary” sign and I hooped and hollered like a madwoman and gave her “thumbs-up”. Pumpkin didn’t understand why mama was yelling like a fishwife, but she liked the signs. She waved at the people on the corner and they waved back.

Later, we picked up Hubby from work and went voting. We vote as family, not that the kids are really much help, but it’s good for them to see us vote. The poll workers were very nice to the kids and gave them “I voted” stickers that were proudly displayed for the rest of the evening. I cast my vote, Hubby cast his and we all prepared to walk back out in the cold rain.

Then something happened. I’m not entirely sure how it all transpired, but Hubby is convinced there was some kind of supernatural angle to the whole thing. As near as I can recall this is the exact sequence of events: I was  thinking how proud I was of my country for the first time in too long a time and whether I should carry Pumpkin or let her hold my hand and walk to the car. Then a very young adolescent boy walked in the door we were leaving out of. Our polling place is in a church (a liberal one thank goodness) and  he was probably a member, there for some activity. It was cold and rainy outside and the boy was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. So on top of everything else, I was also thinking about how cold he looked and how very polite he was for holding the door. As I always do whenever someone holds the door, I said “Thank you”. Or I tried to anyway. Apparently I had reached some kind of theoretical synaptic limit in my brain and something had to give. Pumpkin took that very moment to stumble, and my brain, having used up the last synapse, couldn’t make my feet work. I went down like a sack of wet cement.

I landed somewhat on the Pumpkin, but as I am an old pro at falling I was able to keep my weight off of her by taking the fall on my butt and my right hand. She was understandably scared and began to cry. I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t even look back at the kid who held the door, but he was probably appalled, just like everyone else.  I got up, picked up Pumpkin and checked her for visible injuries, there were none. She was fine, just a little shaken up. Me? I’m a little sore, thanks for asking.

Hubby had quite a bit of fun at my expense once he knew that I wasn’t really injured. He said that one moment he looked back and we were upright, but then he heard a commotion and turned back to see us on the ground. And he jokes that he saw a puff of smoke. He also says that my falling has taken on a supernatural tone, that there must be ghosts involved. Not that he believes in ghosts, mind you. No ghosts, just me and my debilitating lack of grace. But I did have to agree when he said, “You have done this our entire marriage! We’ll be walkin’ along one minute, there will be a commotion, I’ll look down and you’ll be on the ground.”

We laughed all the way to the grocery store and back to the House. Hubby said, “There’s a blog post in there somewhere.” And here it is, my story about how I fell for Hillary Clinton. I swear this doesn’t happen to anyone else.