I am breaking a wall here. I am reaching out of the screen and placing my hand upon yours. I want to share a bit of me and I hope you will share a bit of yourself. This is my 100th ficly, written on the 100th anniversary of the Washington DC Suffrage Parade.

Walls are a specialty of mine. I see them and appreciate them for their structural integrity, but I cannot abide them if they prevent a child from achieving his, or her, potential. I know what you are thinking, “Better to leave the wall in place. It may protect me someday.” For years I never thought about breaking them. When I was 12 I started to push them a little, to see if they would give with pressure.

By the time I was 14 I was striking back with an open hand, but it wasn’t until I was 33 that I realized I could really make a substantial dent with a fist. Now I find that I don’t have to punch my way in at all. I can calmly walk the length, gently calling out, until I find the gate.

Because words are the most elegant and efficient tools.