Place

  I stare at the honey-colored wood floors beneath my feet. My eyes travel up to the walls, the painted walls of a pleasing forest green. I didn’t paint these walls. I walk outdoors, bundled up in layers of clothing, making sure to wear gloves and a hat. The gray...

Camellias Come Home

When I finally arrive, I hear the voices, the ones I grew up listening to: the southern accent is a sweet, familiar sound to homesick ears. I used to talk that way, but now the accent only emerges when I’m in the south or speaking with another person with a...

How We Are Like Seeds

I read these words while sitting in the space between spring and summer, on the cusp of wild verdant growth: “Glorifying and enjoying Me is a higher priority than maintaining a tidy, structured life. Give up your striving to keep everything under control —...