I don’t know what the inner space of your mind looks like, but mine is full of shelves, each holding file boxes full of memories. Two nights ago, I went to taking box lids off and flipping through the folders, searching for a moment when I was a 24 year old mother of two young... Continue Reading →
Her name was Edna
Her name was Edna. She was a black woman raised in a multi-ethnic home, had a daddy with a wooden leg who died cradled in her arms, spent the first part of her adult life helping people heal and raising 4 children; and, in her later years, when others had their sights set on retirement,... Continue Reading →