Lost

Some specifics are lost to me now. The name of the street. The month of the year. The amount of time I wandered. What was lost to me then was the placement of our car. In a day before locator pins, this farm girl from a town of ninety-eight parked in a city of three million. Since arriving on the …

Tough Stock

“You came from tough stock,” my Mama always said, and I would ponder just what lineage she was referring to. I knew about livestock in our field and the tree stock used in grafting, but I recognized she meant neither. When I asked, she always pointed to photos of grim people on shabby porches surrounded by acres and acres of …