Untitled

I need y’alls help. what would you name it?

(via “Sissy, Don’t Do Nothing Bad.” Her Final Warning, Her Final Love)

#goodmorningamerica #Gma #newYorkCity #APorchAndAPen

(via When You Don't Know What to Do, Just Do Something)

(via I Told Her She'd Live Forever- And She Did (A Mother's Day Tribute))

(via A New Chapter: Contributing Writer for Hearts of Appalachia Project)

If you’re exhausted by the political circus and the team‑spirit fighting, I’ve got a new piece up. Red team, blue team… no room on my swing. (via Red Team, Blue Team, No Room on My Swing)

(via The Reflex That I'm Finally Naming)

(via Uncle Bub (Alfred Ralph Helton) A Story Cut Short)

(via Daddy Said, “Her Mother and I Do” — Our Hallway Wedding, Our Anniversary of Love)

(via Grief, Memory, and Christmas Healing: Choosing Joy Before Thanksgiving)

Six years sober: from wreck to resurrection. I shouldn’t have walked away from that crash. Cracked jaw, broken neck, stroke, and two deaths on paper. But I did walk away—and I laid the bottle down. This post is about survival, sobriety, and the kind of grace that shows up when everything else breaks.

My holler truth: brittle diabetes and survival. This is about my dad. About the midnight glucose battles, the fear that crept in quiet, and the love that steadied us when numbers didn’t. It’s not a tidy story. It’s a porch story—gritty, but sacred.

(via Love, Scars, and Survival: Our Family’s Story of Brittle Diabetes)