We make our way to the abortion clinic in the light traffic of early afternoon.
My friend fills me in on the 'bubble zone' bylaws that keep us on the other side of the street from the unobtrusive brown building sitting on a busy street corner.
The parking lot is full.
"How do you want to do this?" We look at each other.
We walk the length of the fence and stop - in view of the back door that swings open - and shut - and open - and shut - as customers... hurting, broken people, file in and out.
We decide to walk the length of the block when our legs get stiff and cold - and while we walk - we talk; but when we reach the end of the fence - we stop - and we pray - until our knees and the chill in the air beg us to walk that length again.
i close my eyes - facing that brown building where enters life - and exits bleeding, empty wombs.
We stop no one. There are no signs of protest other than our presence. There are no shouted angry words. There are just two mothers - soon joined by a grandmother - who walk the slushy sidewalks and pray for this generation that sees no better solution.