Stories With Heart And Soul 
Saturday afternoon we hurried out of the house at 1:30 to watch The Blue Angels and Thunderbirds fly over Atlanta. They are the Navy’s highly skilled acrobatic flying teams. I caught site of the last plane rocketing into the tree line. The sound was like smooth thunder, very impressive and majestic. We walked down the
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Let’s send a letter to Santa, a grown up Christmas list. It’s not too late. The coolest part is you’ll get an answer. It may be from an employee of the US Postal Service, but he or she could be in touch with Santa. It’s possible. Here’s my letter to merry St. Nick. Dear Santa, Thank
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While I don’t believe in prescriptions for living, I do believe in quiet space and rocking chairs. They free your mind and open your heart. One of my best investments in comfort is the solid rocking chair on our porch that sits facing east for the new day. Most mornings I step outside to an
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Christmas is a pile of stresses with trauma looming on list-filled December days. The mall, really what could be worse? Clearly, lots could be worse, but getting side-checked and jostled on a Saturday afternoon is not my idea of a good time. Seeing clothing marked down to the bone and hanging akimbo makes me worry.
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Thanksgiving is around the corner. Before you know it, we’ll be making New Year’s resolutions to lose the holiday weight, or just the weight. Or exercise or be more organized. Every year I made lists, imagining I can accomplish more than one thing. This year, after careful consideration, I decided to cast off resolutions. At
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I spoke to a customer service representative recently who was working during a natural disaster. Flooding in her community had reached historic levels. She filled me in on the areas affected and shared a story about a friend not being able to reach her elderly father because the road was washed out. She said they
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“Today is the anniversary of my mom Rita’s death. I was 22 when she died so this year has special significance as my daughter Emma is 22. We are going to do 22 kind things together in honor of my mom. We asked friends and family to join us in honoring my mom with an
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I have the privilege of being a substitute teacher at the Atlanta Girls’ School school where my daughter Emma attended middle school and high school. The word privilege sounds like hyperbole when you’re talking about being a substitute teacher, but it’s not. When Emma was a student at the AGS, I was a vocal fan
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I woke up this morning with a foreign feeling of gratitude. The object was my backyard. It’s one of the first things I see. It’s big and green and landscaped with curves like a winding stream. I love it. But I’ve seen it ten thousand times. Why so grateful now? I’ve been trying to be
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Bren McClain, the author of One Good Mama Bone, came to my book club last night. She’s the new rock star of Southern prose as far as I’m concerned. Just like a teenage groupie, I went wild with the news that she was coming to our book club. I texted my children, friends, and relatives with double exclamation
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