Every Scar Tells A Story

When I was five years old I fell into a fire.  Most of my family was at my mamaw and papaw’s house in rural southeastern Oklahoma.  We had built a fire out in front of the property.  When the adults had retreated back towards the house, my older brothers and male cousins began jumping over the fire.  It was exciting to see them run and jump with the flames seemingly engulfing their legs.   Continue reading “Every Scar Tells A Story”

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