I always try to run two errands when using the car, so I dropped the trash off at the “convenience center” before going to vote. It’s a good thing I did, because one bag reeked. I did not want to be identified, rightly or wrongly, as one of those garbage voters.

Joyce had voted days ago, and she mentioned having used a machine. I haven’t voted that way since we left New York. My surprise at the polling place was not the way of voting, but the venue itself. I started walking into the firehouse, and a man who was helping direct traffic called out to me. The firehouse has not been renovated yet after being flooded in the hurricane. I was to vote in a tent with a hard roof. The sides were cloth, hung from the top like a shower curtain. Inside, computers replaced the old voting ledgers. I signed a paper printed with my voter information and was given a paper ballot. There were about six people ahead of me.

Voting, then, was like always here. Standing at a tall stand with a cardboard shield around it, I filled in circles beside the names of people I was voting for. When finished, I took the ballot and fed it into a machine. A voting helper handed me a tiny sticker that said I voted.

I meant to put the sticker on when I got to the car, but people were waiting for my parking space. I went home, forgetting to pick up the sticker. I took my photo, anyway, complete with red, white, and blue star earrings. It’s my official statement that I voted.