It’s Women’s History Month and Robin Buckallew is again doing a writing marathon for it.

I’m back! Here we go again, another Women’s History Month, another marathon. Year four and counting. I hope you can follow me all the way through, right to the end. I could use someone else making this journey with me.

It feels so much like women’s rights are waning sometimes, doesn’t it? Recent Supreme Court appointments suggest that may not be an illusion. We still have so much of a fight ahead, and women around the world are facing much worse things than we face. It’s tempting sometimes to say to hell with it, go back to bed, take a bubble bath, binge watch TV (I would fill in a show here, but I don’t really watch TV, so I don’t have a show to fill in; put in your favorite for me).

So, tonight, I begin my little part. Another story I have snatched from my life. It is a little thing, maybe seeming trivial. It becomes large because it is on top of so many other little things. You can put the smallest of pebbles in a pile, and at some point, they qualify as a heap. When? I don’t know. I leave such questions for the philosophers and the mathematicians to fight out. It is not a question for a scientist, because there is no scientific answer to that question. It is a matter of perspective.

Tonight’s story is very much the real thing. I changed the names to protect the innocent, the guilty, and everyone in between. So here it is, Day 1 and counting.

Read on.