Honesty stepped into the conversation But she wasn’t spoken She came under the words Punctured my pride Letting the blood of my true prejudices run out Soaking through my carefully considered clothes choice And I stared down at the red truth dripping Half shocked Half hurt Fully ashamed at what Honesty had revealed

Mason-Dixon Line

As I woke up from an unsatisfactory car nap, my husband informed me that we had crossed the Mason-Dixon line. “Yeah, so?” I replied. “So we’re Yankees.” He quipped. “Haven’t we always been?” I asked. “Yes, but they aren’t.” He answered. “Oh. We’re in that part of the country,” I thought. Twang and grass coming … More Mason-Dixon Line