I raised my child in a shopping mall. Not the kind of my youth: An enclosed, 1980’s dark-floored cave with a Spencer’s and The Limited, Orange Julius and Chick-Fil-A; a constant fountain whooooooshing in the background. No, this…

I should have found my voice by now. As I creep toward the second half of my life, I guess it’s no surprise that I feel like I haven’t. I’ve been telling the stories of others far longer than my own. But a writer’s voice is ever-changing. The voice I…

I keep snow in my freezer. In Alabama snow is rare. So years ago my daughter Isabel and I started gathering it each time it snowed. We put each scoop of snow in a baggie and stuck it in the freezer, marked with the year we collected it. It may…

I dust off the plastic bin I put away 10 years ago and carefully pry the top open. I stand outside on my balcony because the years of dust cover it. I gasp when I look inside. It was the same gasp I took 10 years ago — with a…

Nothing could prepare me for the unplanned beauty and fear of having an adult child diagnosed with autism. My daughter, Isabel, and I are out with friends. She is 17 and, unknown to us, a pandemic is barreling toward us from across the ocean. We’re having fun. She’s been accepted…

Today is my one-year anniversary in quarantine. One year ago today I taught my last in-person class at The University of Alabama, packed my laptop and some midterms and went home. I’ve left since then only to walk each day or pick up drive-up groceries. …

She was never going to be mine. This tortoiseshell cat with piercing green eyes, I did not want. She sat in a cage in a Birmingham pet store and looked up at me. I did not want a pet store cat. If I wanted a cat at all, it would…