I was asked, “Why are you here?”
I fumbled for a quick, witty response before simply saying, ‘The choice is clear.”
This was after driving around the parking lot, judging the best spots and gauging how long it would take me to toddle into the headquarters. Parked in the yellow zone, I briefly toyed with leaving my baby alongside the area that felt right to me. You know, whoever designs these parking lots, clearly never had to balance on two busted knees.
I walked inside after a young man greeted me, and held open the door. My mind time-traveled to when young boys were still taught the delicate dance of good manners once reserved for hanging around the bowl of virgin sillabub at a Church Social.
Inside there were posters and a cardboard reminder of the reason for my visit. Could use a few more people. The place should be shoulder to shoulder, but I know that will come as November winks. Guess it’ll be my job to get ’em in there.
I wonder if my kitchen sink cookies could lure new voters? I don’t make them anymore, and Whole Foods has a pretty good stand in. Surely fence sitting Independents might be encouraged, maybe even a lapsed Republican.
As I look at my black & white postcard photo of the First Family, I know they don’t need anything from me. Just look at them.
Well, wait a minute. Let me check my change purse. Those volunteers look like they could use the cookies. Those sweet, young, hard working faces…making me feel like M’dear.
Copyright © 2012 Kimberly Yarbrough Carpenter