Words have always swirled around me like snowflakes-each one delicate and different, each one melting untouched in my hands.

By the way, there is nothing cute about a pink wheelchair. Pink doesn't change a thing.

Words. I'm surrounding by thousands of words. Maybe millions...Deep within me, words pile up in huge drifts. Mountains of phrases and sentences and connected ideas. Clever expressions. Jokes. Love songs...I have never spoken one single word. I am almost eleven years old.

Go ahead and cry, Andy. Don't be afraid of those tears. Sometimes they help to wash the soul clean.

It can connect us to memories. It can influence our mood and our responses to problems we might face.

I learned to dream through reading, learned to create dreams through writing, and learned to develop dreamers through teaching. I shall always be a dreamer.

What would you do if you could fly?" Mrs. V asks as she glances from the bird to me. "Is that on the quiz?" I ask, grinning as I type. "I think we've studied just about everything else." Mrs. V chuckles. "I'd be scared to let go," I type. "Afraid you'd fall?" she asks. "No. Afraid it would feel so good, I'd just fly away.