From age 4 to 18 I lived in the type of sleepy towns you read about in books, where people don't always lock their doors, unless of course you're us - the only non-white family around for many years. In that case your world is surrounded by Confederate flags in a state that was part… Continue reading Saying Goodbye to A Town Where Time Does Not Reside, Part 1
This morning I packed my bags and marveled at how I had come home with half a carry on bag full of clothes and was leaving with a huge checked suitcase and a very full carry on bag. I said goodbye to the snow and hugged my family goodbye, and hopped on board a plane… Continue reading A Farewell to Home and Vacation
When I make the turn from Highway 40 onto the narrow roads of State Road 39, before my feet hit the gravel of the driveway--I am home. The tall trees, bright green grass, blooming flowers, and red porch with its American flag. They are all so familiar, and so constant in my life of motion.… Continue reading In a town where Time does not reside
Odelia Younge 