Early Voting dates are circled in red on my October calendar. I am an Election Judge after years of applying and then withdrawing my name due to my children's active schedules.

The training schedule down in Castle Rock's Fairground Auditorium reiterates the significance of this volunteer position: four hours of training split between demystifying a 108 page training manual and delineating the specific duties of my Election Judge role as a "Provisional Judge".

My title puffs out my chest. I feel proud to be assigned an entire self-contained world. In this position, I must combine the jobs of all other 11 Election Judges at my Polling Place:

• like Pollbook Judges, I will process voters.
• like the Poll Manager, I will contact the Election Office when difficult issues arise.
• like the Paper Ballot Judge, I wll issue paper ballots and help voters spoil incorrectly completed ballots.

I have my own Courier Bag and my own Ballot Box and even my own Voting Booth with three black pens with which voters will mark their paper provisional ballots.

The night before my first BIG DAY, I read the manual over nervously. I cannot sleep. Responsibility overwhelms me. I am the connection between The Voter and The Successful Completion of his/her ballot. I make The Experience pleasant or I turn The Voter's Day into one of frustration and insecurity.

Provisional Voters are problem voters. They will come to me stressed because:

1. Their name is not in The Pollbook OR
2. They went to the wrong POlling Place and don't want to go to the right one OR
3. They are registered elsewhere but want to vote her and now OR
4. They are supposed to vote a Mail In ballot but have changed their minds.

I am Customer Service. My job is to remain calm when The Voter yells or complains. I am to assure them that 100% of Eligible Votes will count- assuming they haven't lied to me, Their Vote will count. I plan to assume this. I can't imagine someone lying on a Voter Registration form anyway.

Then it occurs to me that I will most likely have to help Voters who are for The Other Guy. In my county, this could be the majority of Voters I help vote. I shrug this off. I cannot focus on this fact. My loyalty must be with My Provisional Voters. Finally, I shake this off and fall into a restless sleep.

I am not a morning person. Without much sleep, I feel discheveled and disconcerted: groggy. I prepare to head to The Polling Place where I will serve The People. Panic rushes adrenaline to my brain. I lay back on the pillow, begging my self to get a grip. Others before me have accomplished this and more. I am capable.

I arrive at the Polling Place at 6:00am sharp. I insist my Provisional Table be set up outside the main action so that My Voters are not intimidated. They are already going to be agitated, after all. I swear an Oath with my fellow greyhaired Polling Partners who laugh and try to repeat the unfamiliar words in a unified, coherent language.

Returning to my Provisional Cave, I open my Manual to Page 56 and follow the instructions for setting up my site, line by line. I verify and break the seal on the Provisional Courier Bag and mark this on the purple Election Day Seal Log. I place the Provisional Ballot Box on my wobbly table. I stuff business cards underneath each of the table legs, stabilizing it. I verify that the Provisional Ballot Box is empty and close and latch the door, then apply it's Seal. I record this Seal Number on the Provisional Ballot Box Log and place my initial in the appropriate box on the log.

Then I count my ballot inventory. I have 17 different ballot styles for the various precincts in my county. I brought a sturdy filing rack that allows these ballot pages to sit side by side so that I don't have to dig through a stack of ballots in order to find the assigned ballot style for each person's residential location. The ballots are about a foot wide and 18 inches long and are pretty heavy. Probably I would rip one if I tried to slide it from the bottom of a stac, and with all the people I expect, I won't have time to stack and unstack the forms after each Voter receives his/hers. I count my ballot inventory and verify my numbers on the Statement of Ballots- Provisional Form.

The Poll Manager brings round a stack of red aprons or blue vests. I am already wearing a blue sweater, so I complete the patriotic look with a red DouglasVotes.com apron, wrapping the string around my waist and tying it off in the front so that it doesn't pooch out. I learned that trick volunteering in my daughter's school kitchen.

And not a moment too soon. "The Polls are Open!" the Poll Manager announces. There must be five people in line to vote. I set a chair behind my table and sit on the edge, tapping my foot with excited anticipation. I wait. And wait.

Lunch comes and goes and still, no Provisional Voters brighten my isolation. I read a chapter in my book of Sudden Fiction, distracted by each movement. I write a miserable note to my mother. I drink a liter of water, tap the floor, wrap my wool coat around my shivering shoulders and check out the restroom, sure someone will come the minute I desert my post.

No one comes to my table all day.