The Odd Sentiment for Absence

It is election day, and like every good citizen, I have cast my vote.  In a matter of hours this long national travail will be ended.  Or only begun, depending on the outcome and your particular political persuasion.  At least the electioneering part will be behind us for awhile.  No human being -- at least not the kind of human being who is likely to run for the Presidency -- can wear well through all the years of campaigning that now seem to be the norm.  We weary of that much exposure to anyone.  Obama?  McCain?  Nice enough folks, I'm sure -- both of them -- but I need to see a little less of them for awhile.  

That said -- and I feel a little perverse in saying this -- there is a part of me that will find the absence of the race unsettling.  Like having a wart removed, the absence of something that has become so familiar, so reliable a part of one's experience -- even something negative -- leaves a sort of psychological limp.  Don't get me wrong:  I will enjoy the limp in this case.  But I will also notice it, and think repeatedly about what it is that is suddenly absent.

I know it won't be long before the herbicide and seed ads begin to cycle with as much competitive frequency as the political ones they have replaced, so I need to enjoy the ever so brief space between.  Rejoicing with the outcome...

...or lamenting what might have been.  Hours will tell.