She slid her arm through mine and I patted her hand as we strolled home through the uneven cobblestone streets. She talked about the architecture, one of her favorite topics, of the hugging brick buildings along the way. I watched the Spanish moss...
It’s withered and covered in a perpetual coating of coal dust. It is nestled deep in the bosom of the Appalachian Mountains; isolated and not particularly sophisticated. But, if you’re lucky enough to ever see the fog cascade down East River...
When mama got married for the second time to a wanna-be Hell’s Angel with flowing red hair and a ferocious German Shepard whose bark made my soul shiver, my grandmother gifted me with a pair of camel-colored, squared-toe Dingo cowboy boots to help...
The day my mom died, my husband called one of my best friends, Erin, while I was in the shower drowning my tears. I needed the softness of her. She knew. By the time I emerged from the steamy bathroom in my thread-bare robe and towel turban she was...
I take my ball under my arm and navigate my pink and white bike, a going-away present from my grandparents, to the basketball court at the edge of our apartment complex. The goals were missing their nets more often than they weren’t and the court...
The last time I saw my mom before she died was at a Memorial Day family reunion. She had bummed a ride by promising a friend a styrofoam plate heaped full of the fried chicken, potato salad and banana pudding that my aunts had spent two days...
However, a few months after my mom’s funeral, my father ambushed me when I stopped by my grandmother’s house. I didn’t even know that he was out of prison. There had been a traitor. Someone had told him I was visiting. When we pulled up, he came...
When I pushed the dented metal door of our HUD-funded apartment open that afternoon, I expected more of the morning’s jubilant party atmosphere, but the house was quiet and it smelled like stale beer and cigarette ash, a scent I recognized from the...
We both have old eyes, eyes that have seen too much. Sad brown eyes that glint with golden flecks – when the sun hits them just right. And, our hair. God, do we have great hair. Child, you’re the spittin’ image of your daddy. I tell you what...
A good friend of mine looked at me over a cup of coffee and held me with her soft, reflective honey-colored eyes, eyes that sparkle like spring’s first fireflies when she is excited, and said, “You know what I really wish, Yokosuk? I wish that you’d...