a love and obscenity
My roots burrow deep into rusty Georgia clay. Daddy might’ve been born tasting a silver spoon but Mama worked, and worked hard, for everything she had. I remember a literal pot to pee in when we visited Papa, her father; but when I think on that a...
Laundry & lines & suds & such
I love my hometown; though it was never as small, it’s Mayberry to me. A few weeks ago I went back to celebrate my niece’s first birthday. Since my parents aren’t living, it’s not a trip I make often enough. Walking though Five Points, I...Pavlov, Pepsi & the Wonder Drug
When I was little and got sick, no matter what the doctor prescribed, it was my mother's antidote that made me feel better: a Pepsi with crushed ice. When I was sooo sick I couldn't do anything but lie on our sofa and watch TV, I listened while Mama...Thief of memories
Breast cancer doesn't just plunder body, it is a thief of memories. I have good reason to hate it, too: The memory album of my mother is too small. Blank pages are haunted with wonderings of "what might have been, if only." If...Welcome!
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