I used to think my grandmother was just being difficult when she’d pull me back from the front door, her…

I used to scoff at food superstitions, rolling my eyes at spilled salt or not cutting pasta. Oh, the youthful…

I remember scoffing. Really, truly scoffing. It was a crisp autumn day, the kind where the air smells like damp…

I remember sitting on my porch, the humid air thick and heavy, a low hum of distant traffic the only…

I remember sitting on my grandma’s porch, the air thick and heavy, a strange quiet descending upon the cicadas. She’d…

I remember sitting on a dusty stoop in a small village outside Kumasi, Ghana, the scent of woodsmoke and damp…

I remember standing there, heart pounding, the faint scent of rain still clinging to the morning air just hours before…

I remember being ten, huddled under a blanket, convinced the creaks in the old house were the claws of some…

I remember a time, years ago, when a friend of mine, a brilliant engineer, absolutely refused to start a new…

I remember sitting on my grandmother’s porch, a small, slightly rickety wooden structure that always smelled of freshly baked bread…