To Pee Or Not to Pee . . . (Originally Written 02 27 2017)

Bathrooms . . .

I sit here listening to the News and the discussion about bathrooms and who should go in which ones.

And my first reaction has always been – who cares?  A bathroom is a bathroom is a bathroom.  As long as there are stalls for privacy who cares?

And then I pause . . . and reflect.

I remember being a little girl in my Detroit neighborhood.  Such grand memories.  We played kick the can and baseball and sometimes my girlsfriends and I played “house” up in my attic playroom . . . or on the porch.  We were mommies and our dolls were our babies . . .

And then . . . I was a teenager and going to high school . . . and I had a boyfriend . . . and he was my forever love . . . and we went to dances and . . .
And then . . . I was a young bride . . . waking down the aisle of the church . . .  promising to love and honor my husband . . .

And then . . . I was a young mother . . . with my firstborn . . . and second born . . . and third born . . . and fourth born . . . and then . . . on my own and working once again . . . and then . . . a grandma . . .

And then . . . I start to think of others . . . who never really knew who they were . . . or struggled trying to understand who they were . . .

And tears fill my eyes . . . and my heart wrenches . . . because . . . because that kind of confusion . . . anguish . . . was something I have NEVER had to come to terms with.