I’m honored to have an article in the spring issue of The Truly Co magazine! The theme for this issue is “home”, and I wrote about my view of home, the south, and my Asian background. It’s a beautiful magazine–you’ll be...
Going Home Sweetness drips, roosts on the edge of the blade, and my feet aren’t hurt. Finding a multitude at any given moment, I am undone, orbiting on an imaginary hammock, swinging and creating my own breeze. I gaze up to see the v-shaped geese, flying to the same...
When Home It isn’t simply the camellias or dogwoods that draw me home but a string that pulls, pushes Appalachia aside and drags me under the Chattahoochee with the catfish. I resurface in the creek down the street, catch my breath on a blanket of pine...
It happened in the Wal-Mart parking lot. My friend said it happened to her when she visited the beach after a long absence. I was expecting it to happen at the beach too. But for me, it was when I stepped out of the Wal-Mart in my hometown. All of a sudden it hit me,...
Going Home Sweetness drips, roosts on the edge of the blade, and my feet aren’t hurt. Finding a multitude at any given moment, I am undone, orbiting on an imaginary hammock, swinging and creating my own breeze. I gaze up to see the v-shaped geese, flying to the same...
Speckled gold is the autumn landscape; speckled gold with dots of brown, shades of crimson, rust, and fading sienna. On lanes with rust-colored leaves, I notice the waning colors, and flaky papery leaves falling brown to the ground. Pumpkins aren’t bountiful...
A plane carries me hundreds of miles, flying faster than a bird, to my home. I had to fly to get there, nearly a thousand miles away. When I walk off the plane and into the airport, I hear the voices. It’s the southern accent I grew up listening to, like a sweet...
Do you need a place to create, think, write, pray? A creative space offers a designated space to make your art. And making your art, doing the creative things you are gifted with, nourishes the spirit and soul. I encourage you to find a place for this, if you don’t...
Are you grabbing the tails of flying kites, like dreams, and letting them fly you, busting open sorrowful seams? Days whiz past us and are we too busy to see the gifts and dreams God’s already given to you and to me? It’s one reason I stop, count, and slow...
