Inspire Community Cafe which I wrote about earlier is now open! I’m gonna let these photos speak for themselves except to say it is the best combination of great food, great space, great mission, and full out cuteness I’ve ever seen.
Go visit soon! 510 Tillman St Suite 110, Memphis, TN 38112
The full Wolf moon rose so close you could touch, it but it burst a vessel and bled red.
The little boy, thinking about the 5 acts of kindness he has been commissioned to do today on Martin Luther King Day, drew a picture of the tents beneath the interstate on Claiborne Avenue that he drives past in his city where “the people have no homes.”
This is a voodoo daffodil bulb drying in the hidden chambers of the Morris Ice Company, which my family sold at the end of 2018.
A small press loved The Bone Trench enough to say “We are fans,” and even though it didn’t fit their list, they recommended other, subversive presses—perhaps I misperceive my writing: me, subversive?
My husband is the best grandfather ever, which is what he intended to do when he retired: be a grandfather. He’s doing a really good job with it.
I think of the specifics we wish for each other at the new year’s beginning—good health, loving family, dreams fulfilled—and I know it can’t be. Because this is Life. Even now, those I care about are facing health challenges, overwhelming obligations and anxiety while fighting rolling fogs of unknown troubles.
So what do I wish for?
Unexpected gifts. Pleasant surprises. The discovery of new skills and appreciation of old talents. Awareness of happiness as it creeps into your life.
A slowing down of the grinding pace of life. Relief. Bursts of joy. Contentment. Pride. Satisfaction of accomplishment. Acceptance of endings and beginnings. A calming of fears. The determination that you, not circumstances, will define your peace.
In this spirit, last night, after a wonderful dinner at Peche and a pleasant New Year’s Eve, when the neighbor (predictably) cranked up the music, my husband said, “Well, he’s due,” and I said, “Let’s take these blankets and sleep in the living room.” So we drifted off to sleep, back-to-back, him on the sofa and me on the futon, awoken only once by the fireworks booming from Crescent Park in a splendiferous display of light.
And, because it can’t hurt to ask, let us wish that I sell a manuscript, the Saints win the Super Bowl, and WordPress quits fooling with its format. 🙂