When thrown into a fire, magnolia leaves make the best crackle. I learned this during the summer I turned eight. That was the summer I got stung on the head by a yellow jacket. My scalp itched and peeled for weeks.
Snow Cream
The essence of pure joy in my earliest memory can be distilled down to 3 ingredients that are relatively unremarkable on their own. Milk, sugar, and vanilla. Three ingredients that, when combined with fresh-fallen snow, make a luscious treat; a delightful dance of flavors on the tongue, best enjoyed with good company and a steaming…
Pulpit
” If any in the congregation wish to receive the peace of Christ for themselves, to rest assured of the hope of heaven, come now; come as you are as we stand and sing this song of invitation.” No one came, of course because the “congregation,” was an ironically appropriate conglomerate of misfit stuffed animals,…
Ave Maria
The orange juice was extra delicious that morning, fresh-squeezed sunbeams in a glass; the pulpy sweet-tart nectar welcomed a day I’d been waiting for forever. When you’re six, anything over one day is forever, especially when you’re waiting for something amazing.
Linoleum Prison
Heels on linoleum clickety clack like the palpable tick and tock of time standing still
Your chirpy cheerfulness grinds my tender nerves like sandpaper
I hate how you never use my name.
Walsie
I don’t remember the first time I met Walsie, but I’ll never forget her. She came into my life by way of my Pappaw. Both widowed and needing companionship, they married sometime during my college years.
Theirs was a second-chance love, an opportunity to love and be loved differently than before.
Sara E. Robb-Scott 