A Dime in His Pocket
My grandparents’ farm appeared frozen in time, an anachronistic reminder of humble days. The warm, fetid smell of cow manure and the cool, earthy scent of the blue-green grass greeted me as soon as I opened my car door and stepped out onto the gravel road.
Typing Takes Us to the City
What makes a person a trailblazer? Must they be defined by their immigration to a harsh terrain or an undiscovered land?
My mom calls my aunt Barbara a trailblazer, a pathfinder, though she certainly never completed any of the stereotypical feats of one. My aunt doesn’t see herself as anything brave or special, though she did leave the hills and hollers of southern West Virginia at the tender age of 17 to move to Washington, D.C. My mom insists she never would have had the courage to leave if my aunt hadn’t paved the way.