My older sister and I grew up six years apart and about as similar as Meg and Jo March. She wore sweaters and scarves; I wore the same Mossy Oak hat several days in a row so I didn’t have to brush my hair. She kept her side of the closet neat; I didn’t know … Continue reading Meg & Jo
Sometimes, usually when I’m in the kitchen, I find myself thinking about my great-grandma Minerva, Papa Jay’s mom, who had a tight, little face, wore her black hair in a bun, and made him biscuits and gravy from scratch every morning. Papa is getting to an age when he can’t remember things well or often, … Continue reading A Long Line of Quiet Women
Dear Maggie,* Once when I was a teenager, I went to a big concert by a Christian band-–the kind of concert where you feel the drums beat under your ribcage. The event was themed around one of the band’s new songs, which dealt with the worth of a young woman who doesn’t see herself as … Continue reading On Goldenrod & Body Image
Dear Maggie,* Last May, Jared and I found ourselves in that funny place of not-yet-being-engaged but knowing we would be pretty soon, if know what I mean. It’s a gentle transition you don’t necessarily talk about, but that’s written all over a girl’s face and obvious in the things she starts buying: dishes, for example. … Continue reading To a Girl Engaged
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