Act Accordingly

“Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some, they come in with the tide. For others, they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by time. That is the life of men. Now, women forget all those things they don’t want to remember, and remember all those things they don’t want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly.” -Zora Neal Hurston

When I was a little girl, I spent many an hour dreaming of who I would be one day when I was a “lady.” Among the sprawling corn and tobacco fields where my childhood played out, there was ample opportunity to dream, to plot, to imagine just what life could be. I had plenty of female role models to look up to: my school teachers, the woman who taught me to play piano, and our elderly neighbor who taught me how to grow African Violets, just to name a few. Of course, out of all of them, my beautiful young mother was the woman I admired the most.

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The Storm (Part 2)

The thing about storms is their uncanny ability to either bring people together or drive them apart. In my own experience, gusting winds, pounding thunder and crashing lightning only make me want to be a little bit closer to the people I love.

As a little girl, I begged my dad to come inside and away from the storms he loved to watch because I was scared for his safety. But I also did so because I was scared myself: I wanted him to pick me up and give me a great big hug and tell me that everything would be ok. Sometimes, you just need the assurance and comfort of someone bigger, stronger. Read More

The Storm (Part 1)

A few weekends ago, I went for a beautiful 7 mile run through Cherokee Park and the Highlands. (If you haven’t put two and two together already, I am basically obsessed with this area of Louisville.) When I started, the air was a hot, smothering 90 degrees. But as I maneuvered among the curves of the road, I noticed the temperature was falling. A strong breeze began to blow and around me leaves were falling: scattered reminders that autumn is upon us.

Amid the leaves and the breeze, I was acutely aware of something else: a storm was coming.

In Cherokee Park, there is a hill that overlooks a small valley where tree tops and sky seem to stretch endlessly before you. For some reason, I love this hill and this view. It fills me with a sense of hope and anticipation (though for what I have not quite decided.) As I topped this hill that evening and looked out at that favorite view, I had to stop for moment because what I saw took my breath away: billowing clouds above me barely broke to reveal a glimpse of heaven, while in the distance the sunset shone through ominous, much darker clouds in an orange haze. Meanwhile sheets of rain fell to the earth against its golden backdrop. Read More