Precious Memories

The music was different here. Unlike the staticky radio in Daddy’s Ford, this music was living and active, piercing my nine-year-old heart and energizing my soul. We didn’t just listen to the music; we sang along, from the youngest Sunbeam to the oldest member of the Brotherhood. This was the wooden church of my childhood. I knew this place well …

The Keeper

Wiping my hands on a cup towel, I turned from the Alfredo sauce to face Clayton. Looking at his solemnity, I knew I needed to adjust dinnertime. “This money needs to last me all summer,” he said, handing me a fat bank envelope. “I’ve been saving for about a year, and I’d like you to keep it for me.”  As …