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Doors for me represent more than simple open-and-shut passageways.

Some doors are less inviting than others are when one has to cross their thresholds with a disability.

A smidgen of a step or a smaller-than-standard opening can be an infuriating impasse for a wheelchair user. I must acknowledge I have known times when my grand entrance lacked a little glamour, because the accessible door was a bit off the traditional trail.

Still, I try to take bothersome barriers in stride and spend more time dwelling on the welcoming, wide-open doors that I find throughout the community.

I relish the realization that few young women have had as many doors held for them as me. My wheels, it seems, entitle me to receive the charming, old-fashioned open door treatment and yet to maintain my feminist views as vocally as I wish.

While some may question whether people care about each other anymore, I have hope for humanity based on keyhole observations.

The times when my spirits are most lifted are the occasions when unknown souls will go directly out of their way to allow me through a door.

They often combine their helpful action with a friendly greeting like, "Here, let me get that for you," or "Have a good day." Whatever words they use, it rejuvenates me to realize what these people are really saying is "I want to make the effort to make your day easier."

Yes, I may have a door shoved shut in my face on occasion, but the other side of that door is a view I consider myself fortunate to see.

I derive delight at the electric "whoosh" of doors that spread apart when I approach.

"Open, sesame," I delightfully proclaim at the thought of the little extra independence that door's sensor affords me.

People pass through their frames everyday and they may not consider the full significance of doors. I guess I'm a supreme surveyor of sorts when it comes to unlocking their secrets.