Grits and Purls

Spinning yarns about the grit of life

My daughter, like all babies, could grab things and hang on long before she knew how to let go of them. She would grab a toy and then become frustrated when she couldn’t let go of it so that she could pick up the next toy that caught her attention. She would stare at her hands trying to figure out how to make them open up and let go. Continue reading

We were walking in the backyard at Christmas, stepping gingerly from grassy spot to grassy spot. The iron-red dirt had become mud in the rainy season, but it was 60 degrees out and the sun was shining. “Do you have any pop?” I asked.

Mom and Dad stopped and stared at me in disbelief. “Do we have any what? Did you just say ‘pop’?” Continue reading