I pulled in behind her grey minivan, Shari stepping out from the driver’s seat, arranging tin foil across a tiny platter of chocolate-dipped cookies. “I didn’t want to be the first one here,” she laughed, and we walked up the driveway together. Hugging our hostess, we stepped into two hours of conversation, camaraderie, and community.…

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This post is part of the Atlas Girl Blog Tour which I am delighted to be a part of along with hundreds of other bloggers. To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE. It still does it to me, the smell of popcorn. It reminds me of home. Home wasn’t a zip code, a particular…

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Photo: StudioTempura, Creative Commons, cc license It was the red crayon scribbled against his tiny head of summer blonde hair that got me. I tried to make light of it. “Let’s color purple on Morgan’s head when we get home,” I grinned conspiratorially to my five year old son, winking at him. Red crayon marked…

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Photo: Eric Drost, Creative Commons, cc license I don’t remember them being at all the games, but they were at the home games. Me, jumping around in my red and white cheerleading skirt, or hidden away inside a red Cardinal bird mascot, cheering on the junior varsity basketball and football teams, and Mom and Dad…

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Photo: Moon Lee, Creative Commons, cc license Collapsed and cubed cardboard boxes climb the downstairs couch, and scatter the floor. My gardens and landscape beds lie neglected, choked with broadleaf plantain weeds, skinny grasses, and surprise sunflowers from last year’s blossoms. I don’t how long we’ll be here, so I decided not to plant anything…

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 She met me in the church parking lot, long auburn hair pulled into a side -do. “Beka! What fun to see you!” I hugged her tightly, delighted by the surprise of seeing her there.  “Sam invited me, saying you might need help this summer,” she twisted her nose ring, grinning. “I’m not sure yet if…

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Photo: OZinOH, Creative Commons, cc license I keep thinking about him this week. He who had been so hurt and broken, and who had set the town on fire. A day later and the city is still buzzing. This man whom they had grown so accustomed to seeing bent up and begging under the Gate…

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