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.
Personal Growth
My Creative Writing Teacher Called Every Poem a MADAM—She Was Really Teaching Me About Life
Mrs. Shelton taught me that every poem is a MADAM: the Most Acceptable Draft At the Moment. "Never fall in love with a first draft, Laura Joy," she'd say. Turns out she wasn't just teaching me about poetry—she was teaching me how to revise my entire life after divorce.
Breaking Up in My Azalea Garden: When Love Means Letting Someone Grow
A bird flew from my wreath and knocked me off balance. Days later, sitting beside my boyfriend on the porch, I realized I'd outgrown our pot while he still needed time for his roots to develop. Some transplants come too early.
Writer's Growth 