Election fever’s in the air. At 9:30 am this morning, as I head out to drop off Minal to pre-school, I see police cars blocking the street in front of Henderson Elementary, our polling station. Throngs of people are in line to cast their ballot and they’re holding up Hillary banners. A policeman is directing traffic away from Dismuke Street. As we pass by, I look at him questioningly. He shrugs his shoulder and motions for us to turn.

I swing by again 40 minutes later — this time armed with my camera — and the crowds have dispersed. The police cars are gone. I enter the building to vote and find that there’s no line. Talking to the ballot officer, I learn that Hillary was at the polling station with her supporters. Hence, the crowd.

I did not vote for her. I’m not excited about elections. And I’m not excited about the US candidates. I don’t believe US international policy will change, and it’ll take miracles to make progress on the domestic US front. But for now, I’ll vote, so the world hopefully can at least see a new name and a new face in the white house. For once, it feels good to have votes matter — even if choices remain few.