It's the cinnamon simmering on the stove, its aroma filling in all of the empty spaces that her love hadn't quite reached yet... Joy is in the garlands, glimmering in the lights, smiling through the snowmen.
family memories
Converting VHS Memories While Grammy Dies: How Time Moves in Circles, Not Lines
My Grammy lies dying while I digitize her life—ninety-four years compressed into tapes that spin clockwise, just like the restaurant where Charming took me to help me see past the swirling chaos. Sometimes the monuments in the distance are the only things that stay in focus.
Every Failed First Date is Ground Cover in My Garden—Bok Tower Taught Me Why
At Bok Tower Gardens, hydrangeas reminded me of Kyle, gardenias of Angela, Spanish moss of matching pink bathing suits with Dad. Each plant held a memory. Then I realized: West Virginia boy with the missing tooth is just Firebush—lots of personality, but wrong colors for my garden.
Writer's Growth 