For various reasons, I have to vote by mail in the general election – and today I'm going to the local library, where I've been quite a bit over the years.
Maybe that's why he seems familiar. The bearded younger man sitting behind a table in Citizens' Service, ready to help me cast my vote. Hazel hair, friendly eyes.
We smile at each other.
He scans my health card and shows me a blue envelope with a single ballot inside, and how after voting I should seal the envelope and come back to him.
I go behind the curtain and vote, then hand him the blue envelope, which is now duly sealed.
We both have to sign a declaration, which he then stamps with a small square stamp before the envelope can be put in a closed box while I watch.
I am filled with amazement at how hand-held these small processes are – and am also filled with joy at feeling both his meticulousness and that I live in a country where casting one's vote – regardless of everything else – is an opportunity that can be developed in a peaceful, almost confidential atmosphere.
As I turn to leave again, he says: Thank you for choosing to vote – and over my shoulder I say: Thank you for letting me.
I walk – filled with a soft elation over this meeting across a counter at Viby library – back out into Tuesday's spring fog and cycle to work...
Photo: Jess Moe, Unsplash
is a trained psychomotor therapist and works with rehabilitation and dialogic practice together with people with mental vulnerability.
She is a mother of two young adults and lives in a co-op community by Brabrand Lake. She is busy writing, alone and with good playmates.
She has been taught by Hanneli and Peter for the past five years.
So lovely with your fine attention to the big things in the small.
Thank you for such kind words.
Thanks for reading, Kirsten – and for your words..