When I was younger and wrote stories centered around the women in my life, most times, my mom, grandmothers, aunts,…
The vibrant colors of my life on the slick, thin pages were so green, I could smell the fragrance of grass damp with dew; blue so intense I could hear the water falling like rain at my feet, and yellow so bright I had to shade my eyes to ward off the morning sun. From the book Journeys