My nerves are shot, waiting for the results. Good lord. All I can do is to will time to pass and try to take some snapshots in my mind, of this agonizing historic day.

I got to Blanche Reynolds Elementary School at 6:45 and already there were 20 people in line. By the time I got to the front there were dozens. Amongst the voters were a  couple parents with little kids in tow, one dressed in his robot Halloween costume. The robot would yell “Trick or Treat!” at random moments. There were dogs bounding on the dewy soccer field next door.

Autumn has ascended on Southern California in adorable fashion — orange and yellow leaves looking intentionally placed on the ground, like the work of an overcareful production designer. The air smells clean after the rain, and I can comfortably wear boots for a few hours before the temperature goes back up to its default warmth.

I get to work, sweating in my boots as I cross campus. I eat an “I Voted” donut.

Twitter is twittering like never before. I feel so connected to so many people fighting the good fight. I feel tears well up when I think about Props 4 and 8 and how badly I want them to be defeated. Not to mention the other propositions in other states that are intended to erode people’s rights — to live, to love, to reproduce, to choose.

Dixie Peach has a lovely post about legacy, about making and marking and being history:

We’re doing something that may have seemed impossible or even unthinkable to our ancestors. But we’re also doing something that is going to be remembered by us until the end of our days and will be remembered by those who descend from us. more

And my sister A reports from the east coast:

The line at 7:03 am was a block long. It was exciting and beautiful.

Everyone here at work has told of voting lines that wound down the street and around corners. We have never had lines in Cambridge.

Absolutely never.

Eyes on the prize.