The kind of frequent flier I want to be

The kind of frequent flier I want to be

On the wings of the evening I fly home. Sonic, grits, sweet potato fries and fellowship sitting full in my belly. I enter the in between. Airports transport us out of time. We wait, suspended, for hellos. We travel from one good-bye to another greeting with all our...

When being a family feels like home

The ceiling fan spins above us. Lazy but effective. It’s hot, humid, summer. And we are adrift in a big bed – the one with no frame or headboard. The one we’ve had thirteen years now. White sheets billow soft around us. Me and him. We share the sacred moment of the...

If I could, I would live in

the country and not the city. a house and not an apartment. a well weathered farm house and not a new build. upstairs not downstairs. on hard wood floors, not carpet or tiles. next to a corn field, not a lake. inland and not by the ocean (I think). OK, your...