Tag: essay
How my girls’ trip to Atlanta became a massive post-stroke breakthrough
I glanced at my wheelchair stowed away in the trunk and took a deep breath as my friend Setu pulled her SUV out of the driveway. We exchanged wide-eyed grins, still in disbelief that this trip was actually happening. We were headed to Atlanta for a highly anticipated, whirlwind girls’ weekend. It was going to be my first trip in fifteen years without my parents. It all started when my brother and sister-in-law somehow nabbed, for my 38th birthday, the most coveted item of this decade: floor seats to Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour in Atlanta. And it turned into an empowering, disability-friendly girls’ trip made seamless by Atlanta’s accessibility and springtime vibes.
How my mother’s clutter helped me get to know her better
This may sound odd, but as Mother’s Day approaches, I would like to offer a few words in support of pack rats—those governed by the impulse to squirrel away, in drawers and closets and under beds, the minutiae of one’s life. Yes, it can be done to excess. No doubt many of you, after emptying the home of a dead relative, have vowed never to bequeath that chore to those you leave behind. But decluttering can be insidious as well.
Memories mean more than walls and doors
I used to envy people who can travel to a particular building or structure that stands as a monument of what they once knew as home—some place familiar and filled with cheery memories. Perhaps the house they grew up in, or the school they attended. A place they can return to and touch and feel. Unfortunately, that is not the case for me.
My kids’ suburban Atlanta childhood is light-years away from mine
My childhood at age seven was nothing like my daughter’s now. My world was defined by fire and brimstone belching from the pulpit at Spring River Assembly of God. I didn’t know a Black person, and I sure as hell didn’t know what a lesbian was—much less consider a happy couple as part of my family.
Why I’m enraptured with Atlanta’s raptors
After 15 years of living beneath Atlanta’s storied tree canopy, the city’s birds of prey still get me every single time. It’s a feeling that goes a bit deeper than sheer novelty, or even fondness. Seeing an owl silently swooping past street lights and power lines, or spotting a hawk circling above the highway, feels extraordinary, almost fake—a welcome visual record scratch ripping across the mundanity of cityscape.
A father and daughter consider the past—and the future—on a road trip through the Mississippi Delta
Drive north on Money Road out of Greenwood, Mississippi, and the town gives way in a hurry to cotton and corn, an occasional house set back from the road.
My house is not my home. It’s built on my home.
After a year of being stuck at home, I finally realized where home really is.
Minor Braves to Major miracles: The magic of following Minor League Baseball
This current crop of Atlanta Braves is very special to my family because we’ve enjoyed them long before they were famous, long before most diehard baseball fans had even heard of them. Ozzie Albies, Austin Riley, Adam Duvall, Freddie Freeman, Max Fried, Charlie Morton—before they were household names, they were Gwinnett Braves or Stripers.
On fall fairs and longing in southeastern Louisiana
When I was a kid, one of the few salves for the end of the summer and the beginning of another long school year was the St. Tammany Parish Fair in Covington, Louisiana. There was always that sense of anticipation and excitement as the weather cooled and eased into fall, the days growing shorter, a feeling that things were changing.
This little droid is designed to haul cargo without a car. But Atlanta’s broken sidewalks prove a challenge.
On a quiet Saturday morning in May, I went for a lovely walk through my neighborhood with my family: my husband, my infant son, and a $3,250 robot named Gita.