I recently went on a girls’ beach trip to Hilton Head Island. It’d been a while since I enjoyed surf and sun with my female tribe. The last all-female excursion was in August of 2016, the same week my mom passed away unexpectedly. She’d been battling cancer but was projected to live much longer, so her death came as a shock. Every time I thought about a girls’ beach trip, my stomach knotted. I associated the timing of my previous experience with my mother’s passing. 

There was once a young girl in Southern India who lived in a house with no electricity. A coiled water hose sat in a corner of the room where she slept. Each night when the sun went down, she convinced herself it was a snake.

I’m not the traditional church-going type. “Christianity” is an antiquated, laden term of which I’m not a fan. My faith is unique, evolving. My God is changing and alive with the times. My Bible is a book of stories, metaphors and poetry. It is not a hard and fast guidepost.

My boyfriend and I recently bought a vintage house. It was built in 1971. When the realtor gave us a tour, I furrowed my brow trying to imagine our blended family of seven settling into such an abode. Prior to finding this house, we’d been looking at modern homes with open floor plans, bright and airy kitchens, two-car garages and large closets. 

It’s National Library week, and for someone who loves books and was the child of a librarian, this week is special to me.  Aside from two years as a business teacher, my mom spent her entire career in public education as the librarian of Weaverville Primary School. When she retired, she went back and served part-time in the media center of Fairview Elementary.

I’ve missed chaotic mornings fighting for the bathroom, looking for shoes under beds, packing lunches, slinging bagels in the toaster and yelling for kids to get in the car. After a year of strangeness, all students are back in school, and it’s offering a thirst-quenching sense of normalcy. 

I moved from Maggie Valley to Waynesville last fall. My house in Maggie was on the side of Soco Road where there is little to no sun. While that was great for the summertime utility bill, it wasn’t conducive to gardening. I tried hard to make things grow in my shady yard, but photosynthesis is an important part of the growing process. Unfortunately, I had zero control over this life-sustaining force. 

I’d always heard having a puppy was a little like having a baby. I’ve learned over the past two months that information is correct. 

I started snowboarding when I was 15. Even though neither of my parents were athletes, especially skiers or snowboarders, I joined my flock of teenage friends and braved the mountain to learn this popular winter sport. We lived a mere 15 miles from Wolf Ridge and I knew, even then, it would be silly not to take advantage of the proximity. Not everyone gets to grow up close to ski resort. 

Growing up I wasn’t a fan of Larry King. As a little girl in the 1980s, I was more concerned with my Cabbage Patch Dolls and Whitney Houston cassette tapes, so when my parents turned on “Larry King Live” at night to catch his latest interview, I zoned out. I lumped his show in the same category as “MASH” and “Hill Street Blues,” all three of which my parents loved and I eventually came to enjoy.