These Walls Don’t Talk

An old house remains on our land. It has two rooms and no plumbing. The remnants of an outhouse sit behind, as does a freshwater creek. We imagine the former residents were farm workers, collapsing onto straw-filled mattresses after a hard day in the fields. Though the only inhabitants truly known are the turkey vulturesContinue reading “These Walls Don’t Talk”

Memory Lane

I stand at the beginning of Memory Lane, taking in its linear perspective. A row of connected townhomes line the sidewalk to the right as far as the eye can see. To the left is a row of manicured trees framing the city’s botanical garden. A beautiful street that holds many memories for me andContinue reading “Memory Lane”