by Debra DuPree Williams @DDuPreeWilliams
It seems the older I get the more I travel back in time to my childhood, youth, my life as a young wife and mother. I took such a trip just this past week.
Let me begin by claiming my rightful place as a Daddy’s girl. My poor Papa couldn’t go anywhere without me on his heels. I even waited outside the bathroom door, patiently sitting on the cold, tile floor, until he exited and made my world a whole lot brighter and warmer.
Papa's Soft Voice
The house we lived in at the time is no longer standing. It was wiped from the face of the earth by a speeding driver plowing straight into it. Unsalvageable, it was bulldozed. But the memories remain in my heart. Memories of cousins chasing one another long after sundown. Riding the limbs of the old pecan trees as if they were our horses. Hiding beneath a tented bush in the front yard.
