Everything after is a soup of days clanging against the lip of the tureen that is my brain, and squamous cell carcinoma, the laddle stirring at a dizzying speed.
First snow came at night this year, tiptoed up to my front porch and asked me out to play. “I know your story,” it whispered. “Let’s play.”
Hands down, the best day of 2019 was May 19 when the Bachelor of Arts in Linguistics was conferred on this bright-eyed girl.
Luminaries frame the hearth, blue tinsel on the banister, a strand of gold glittery mini-llamas dance from a fresh garland of pine cones and needles.
I mark the start to the season with a jar of Extra Dark Hot Chocolate mix, gingerbread men, and snowflake cutout marshmallows.
Today is white tinsel, warm lights, and pink frosted ornaments that sparkle. Gentle offerings and sweet indulgences. Family, boisterous and beloved, at once hearkening back to the past and reaching toward the promise of tomorrow. It is a pray, a communion, faith like sunlight reflecting us in silhouette. It is give and give and give more. Receive. It is golden. It is red. It is metallic and sterling silver. It is matte. It is ha ha ha! and bygones. It… Keep Reading
Pinchback girls have their traditions:
A first ring for her Sweet 16 and a trinket of fun on the Christmas she’s 21.
Morning light on the first day of the last month of 2018 reflecting off my rag doll’s skirt. A stack of tiny paper books are sewn to her left hand (not visible in this photo), faded pink bow to her hair. She was created to represent the courage of the Little Rock Nine and the spirit of hope. She was adopted from the DuSable Museum of African American History and gifted to me in 1999. I named her Abigail Louisa…. Keep Reading
Happiness is … spying a couple on Day 1 of their vow ’til death do us part.
I’m a descendant of the poet Jean Toomer.