Funeral Skein
by Emma Moore
Higher Ground
The oysters and speckled trout are back, and shrimpers can forecast the weather again by checking a shrimp's legs: red means a storm is coming and clear means the waters are good
The Man with Burnt Fingers
I lean over the wrought iron rail and tilt my phone to capture the perfect shot. Overhead, a sapling clings to sheer rock, its yellow leaves filtering the midday sunlight. Water trickles down the vertical overhang
Driving the Southern Route
Before we got married, my wife and I spent most of our dating time riding around in my car, the yellow Firebird I inherited from my maiden aunt. We’d drive the hills
A Navy Wedding Dress and a Voyage
Meet one of North Carolina's most elegant — and daring — mothers and brides.
Missing New Orleans More Than I Miss the One I Care For
The first time Adharsh told me he loved me was on Mardi Gras Sunday 2013, after the Thoth parade rolled down Henry Clay Avenue, right past my front porch. Brand new strands of beads slithered down the power lines
Crackers and Collard Greens: A Floridian's Southernness
At 23 years old, I am the motorbus baby, the youngest rider by at least three or four decades on this 60-person tour. I have recently graduated from college in Orlando, Florida, and I have moved back home
Christmas Decorations
The sparrows at Walmart look too fat to fly, so they sit on the tarry cement. They keep close together, next to a slice of bread and a half-smashed French fry
The Hidden Pleasures of a Good Housecoat
To borrow from Tolstoy, all good mothers are more or less alike. My mother is no exception — having spent a life ensuring her kids got their three squares, presenting a soft shoulder to cry on
