Progressive Friday Night — Supper in Natchez

The reservation read: meet at Myrtle Terrace, 6 p.m., Friday, April 10th.

The tourists—myself included—arrived ten minutes early. Small talk filled the sidewalk in front of the house: Where are you from? The weather is glorious. We couldn’t ask for a better evening.

Graced by the Veil

It was late Sunday morning when we left Riverview, heading north on Highway 301 toward Zephyrhills. A little more than an hour later, we crossed the railroad tracks and turned onto 8th Street, a quiet, oak-lined street where Spanish moss hung from the branches like icicles from a Christmas tree.

We Might Need That Someday

“Wake up, Jacob. It’s time to get up, sleepyhead.” Mama sang in my ear as she gently shook me from a deep sleep. “Remember, Denny, today we’re going to Grandma’s to help clean out the two old trailers that are in the field.”

As Long As Someone Remembers

As I rounded the first curve into downtown Atenas, the morning sun caught the white tile tombs of the municipal cemetery.

The Sound of Rain on a Tin Roof

As I sit here on my front porch, listening to the gentle sound of a tropical evening rain, a distant childhood memory comes back around—summer afternoons in the care of my grandma Murphy… my great-grandmother, though she was simply “Grandma” to me.