Absentee ballots were my voting lifeline for many years. Never once in all the years I put that ballot in the mailbox, did I think that the vote would not be counted or that the priveledge of participating in our precious voting system would be denied to me.
My husband was a Marine, and in the days when he started his career the state you joined from became your state of residence. And because I was his wife it became mine as well.
In the days before the internet, getting a ballot was not an easy task as the systems underwent changes of form and address and it was always a triumph when the ballot appeared in the mail. As I was the one who took this task on, I was not best pleased one year when my husband and I were supporting different candidates. The ballot with his name on the envelope arrived which he immediately claimed with a grin. I protested that I had done the work, but he was unmoved. It was his ballot and his to vote. Fortunately, mine arrived a few days later and we both happily voted for our separate candidates.
We voted from all over the country as well as overseas, our ballots streaming in by mail to be counted along with those who voted in person. Now that our peripatetic lifestyle is over, I vote in person which is a process I enjoy. Being in a country where we can line up in peace and vote for whom we please is a priveledge I do not take lightly. The orderly lines, the gracious volunteers, the varied citizenry, not to mention the combination of joy and solemnity that surround the occasion are a delight to me.
But I will always remember opening up that ballot after the children were in bed and the house was quiet. And then solemnly marking my choices before putting the ballot back in its envelope to go across the country or perhaps the world to be counted. My small voice was heard --- something that should never be denied anyone.