
Stories in the hills
The smoke settles in the holler, unable to escape the hemlock trees encasing the valley.
Weaving care, ethics, and storytelling into the fabric of everyday life
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The smoke settles in the holler, unable to escape the hemlock trees encasing the valley.

When leaving a town or city for another destination there is a joy for what is ahead, but a sadness for what is now behind.

The sun beamed in through the windows adorned with frills, signaling the late morning of a crisp winter day, lemons dancing across the fabric, rumpled and pushed aside to let in the solar delight.

I wrote this short piece a little over a year ago while preparing for our latest move to New England, just shy of 1,000 miles from where I grew up in Appalachia and even farther from our then-home in Tennessee.

I perched on the bedside, upright and stiff, chilled by the artificial air blowing aggressively against my face.

Growing up, I was told stories. Tales of disappearing tomatoes and bucking horses, legends like the Mothman and haunted amusement parks, and folk stories of John Henry and Johnny Appleseed.

“The connotation of going beyond the science into the person is all I'm asking —that there be a sign of willingness, more than a kind of Pascal-like dialogue, which is too much to ask.

Chronic conditions can significantly impact one’s financial state; these economic effects are influenced by healthcare costs, the ability to work, and various other factors.

Peering atop the peak, She is closer to God than man, The Creator of all below, Of all she fears and loves.

She is standing by the shore, Naked toes tucked neatly into the solar softened sand, Ridding the aches that form her foundation.