The car pulls into the firehouse. The parking lot looks full until we see one spot my mom picks up speed and pulls in to the spot.  Six year old me doesn’t know what is happening. The door opens and I walk towards the door. The line of people pile up in front. My eyes wander to people shaking hands, talking, laughing, and thinking. As we get closer to the door, the talking diminishes. 

My mom leads me to a booth. She looks at me and tells me to be quiet as she fills a form out. Then my mom takes my hand again and leads me to a woman who gives me a sticker on the middle of my chest. I pump out my chest as thoughts whirl about why I am the best. My mom laughs. I keep eyeing my new sticker as I hold my mom’s hand to the car. I try to sound out the words but it is difficult. Getting close multiple times I finally shout, “I voted.”

 I ask my mom what that means and she says, “It is what I just did. Only old people get to do it.” 

Now,  only days away from my 18th birthday, I am what my mom meant by an “old person” back then. I realize how important the “I voted” sticker really was. It is not just a sticker. The sticker is the way I show my opinions on our society and why my vote should count. 

I hope my vote expresses the era of voters and shows that even though I am young, we understand what is happening in the country. It is a coming of age moment every person should have.