Just after five, I woke. It was Easter morning, though I had not yet registered the fact. The sound of little doggy toenails clicked, clicked, clicked across my hardwood bedroom floor. I bolted out of
I leaned in close to Daddy. It was a mere two weeks until Christmas, 2011, as well as a handful of days before my daddy’s 77th birthday. He barely responded to my touch. Daddy was
I had to be at least five years old, when I first saw her. Mother, Daddy, and I were walking through one of the larger department stores in Columbia, South Carolina. We were making our
Thanksgiving is past. Black Friday and Cyber Monday are behind us. Oh, what a pitiful shame! The holiday season is in full swing. And thus, it seems that across the country, the precipitousness of winter
Every artist knows that the highs and lows of life play an undeniable role in what we create. Personally, some of my work I hold as most meaningful to me has been that which is
Let’s talk NASCAR. It’s fast. It’s exciting. Grown men and women fuse cushy in their chairs, whooping and hollering at television screens, watching as their favorite driver’s circle round and round on the tracks. Little
I grew up in South Carolina. But currently I live in California. At the height of our fire season, and with strong winds forecasted for the upcoming week, PG&E the utility company who provides electricity
I’ve become fascinated with uncovering the roots of my past. In my adventures through note and written record, I find folks said to be family. Many are strangers to me, ancestors of which I’ve never
When I was a girl growing up in the South, we lived in the country until I was 7 years old. The view out my front window was my grandparent’s house across the road. Their
I can still hear daddy singing it… Little Brown Church in the Vale. It’s one of those songs that always takes me back to a simpler and sweeter yesteryear. And when I open my heart