Each year they arrive: two thick envelopes reminding us to elect people who can represent us. They sit on the kitchen table beside the vote-by-mail guides explaining issues and candidates. I notice them when I walk by, promising to devote the next weekend to them.

Eventually my husband and I pore over the texts like rabbinical students holding hallowed parchments. We analyze the words; we argue and agree. In the end we mark what we mark with solid black lines, then fold the thick pages into the envelope. We sign the backs ceremoniously and deliver the sacred documents.