sacrifice

A blessed and warm Martin Luther King Day.  I so remember when I was a tiny child picking up my brilliant Uncle with the Grandparents.    I know it was the first time I had been to the train station.  I was a reader and I read early.  I remember distinctly needing to go to the restroom.  I wandered into the restroom, and I read over the door, whites only.  I thought to myself, what does that mean?  I even questioned if that was the case where did the other people go?  It was a deep feeling and just the beginning of many such experiences in the south.  

I reared my children to never see color, but character.  They still base their friendships on this premise.