I rearranged some things and hung it so that from a certain spot I can be there again. It might be a chilly morning in mid-March with puffy cloud of mist hovering above my grandfather's pond. I might be standing on my mama's lonely deck and fix my eyes towards the far corner of the … Continue reading This one, I kept
There was a red bird outside my window this morning. I heard its chirping and stopped to listen. I pushed back from my desk, opened the shutters and stopped, captivated by its visit. Bright, confident, vibrantly bouncing around in the straw. My mind moves lately from one to another thing, the bane of the multitasking and … Continue reading content in my distraction
Something about Sunday had me wanting to go home. To the country, a big white house, grandma's house. It was a sneaky kind of longing all around a breakfast choice, wishing for breakfast at my grandma's...doors wide open to the wrap around the front screened-in porch. I always loved the narrow little side porch, a … Continue reading Feelin’ melancholy, Sis?
Everything started moving really quickly. May felt like two days, not a month. Your birthday, on the 29th and I thought, "Didn't we just get done with Christmas and your first car and making the AllStar team with your buddies, all lined up, gangly legs swinging along the side of the pool?" Seriously, wasn't … Continue reading Are you here yet?
Thinking back to the sweet days of a skinny, silly, long legged girl, her cool grown-up cousin named Heather and Austin, a cousin with a cute friend named Alex...the days of a trip to Tybee for my birthday...family and us, my sister and I navigating the growing up of our babies. Okay, so Austin's a … Continue reading Freeze Frame
My grandfather, "Dan Dan", was a fisherman and a carpenter. He wore overalls; but, he only buckled one strap. His pants were crooked and I always sort of turned my head sideways to line up with his slant. He had a sideways smile that we now refer to as his "go to Hell" smile. He … Continue reading Fisherman and Carpenter
My grandma (we called her Bama because my brother, the first grandchild chose this name, this pronunciation) took us for walks on the dirt roads bordering her white clipboard house and we picked blackberries in the bushes way up high above the deep clay ditches. "Hit the ditch!" She'd holler if she heard a car … Continue reading Cling to what is good…what is treasured