21 April 2025 – Otherwise occupied Friday-Saturday-Sunday, so today is my last chance to vote in the four days of advance polls for our up-coming (28 April) Federal Election.

I walk the two blocks to my designated advance polling station, a local shopping mall.

I’m a good 15 minutes ahead of the 9 am opening, but I expect a line-up even so.

Friday set a new record for advance-poll turnout (2 million), and though numbers are not yet released for subsequent days, I’d heard enough anecdotal evidence to suggest participation has remained strong.

I enter the mall. Oh yes, there is a line-up.

This is just one bit of it, snaking its way past shops and café also in the process of opening up.

Later, as I walk away, my eyes suddenly sting with tears of gratitude for what I have just seen, felt, and done. This is the ritual of democracy. So precious, so fragile — and so easily taken for granted.

But not this time.

There we all were. Despite the wait; despite the fact that — with five parties running candidates in my riding — we had among us an invisible range of political views along with our visible range of demographics; despite all that, the mood was relaxed, friendly and excited.

That’s the word! Excited. There was a kind of happy excitement humming in the air. People were bright-eyed. I’m doing something that matters!

I remember the heavily tatttoo’ed young man (with an impressively patient toddler by the hand) who explained his attitude to the guy next to him: “Yeah, well, y’know? You got to vote. You don’t vote, you got no right to bitch.”

Later, as the day warms and brightens, I walk along the False Creek Seawall.

Where, once again, all those human demographics are present. And, once again, the mood is friendly.

And, once again, I am grateful.