Sweet Tea & Second Chances

Life is so much sweeter in the South!

I was born in the 1970s in a small Louisiana bayou town where the pace was slow, the tea was always cold and sweet, and everybody knew your name. It was the kind of place that felt a lot like Mayberry, you half expected Opie to come walking down the street just as the streetlights flickered on. Every self-respecting Southerner knows you don’t need a watch to tell time. All the kids simply knew they had better be home when the streetlights came on. The days were filled with the sounds of screen doors slamming behind barefoot kids running outside, lawn mowers humming across freshly cut grass, and the occasional boat motor churning through the water somewhere down the bayou. You would see everyone you knew at the Friday night high school football game. You quickly learned that you were not getting away with anything at school because your teachers knew your parents and felt very comfortable telling them what you were up to in class while they selected the best-looking watermelon at the corner grocery store. Small towns have a way of bringing people together whether you planned it or not.

My love for writing began in the third grade in Mrs. Gruber’s creative writing class at a small private faith-based school that left a lasting impression on me. That little school is still there today, still welcoming young children and grounding them in faith. Each day of that school year began with an exercise in creative writing and something about that lit a spark inside of me. Writing became my favorite thing to do. I filled notebooks with stories and spent hours reading novels, fascinated by how words could transport you somewhere else entirely. By the time I reached college, I had a dream to become a columnist. I wanted to write about everyday life with humor and honesty, like Erma Bombeck or Pauline Phillips, better known as Dear Abby. Unfortunately, my father had other ideas. He was a practical man who believed in choosing a “sensible” career. Journalism, in his mind, was too risky.  So, like many people do, I followed the path life placed in front of me rather than the one I had imagined. But the love for it never really went away.

Recently, I’ve found myself in a new season of life, one filled with unexpected changes, a few surprises, and more than a handful of stories worth telling. I started sharing those stories with friends and family. What began as casual conversations turned into something more. People laughed at the stories about dating again after years away from it. They nodded in recognition at the chaos of motherhood. They shared their own stories about starting over, navigating life’s curveballs, and finding humor in moments that didn’t feel funny at the time.

Somewhere along the way, I realized something. Sharing these stories wasn’t just entertaining, it was healing. And that’s how this column came to be. Here, I’ll share stories about Southern living, love, motherhood, dating, and the sometimes-messy process of beginning again. Some will be funny. Some may be a little bittersweet. Others will reflect the everyday moments that remind us that we’re all figuring things out as we go. My hope is that when you read these columns, you’ll find something familiar, something that makes you laugh, think, or feel a connection to your own experiences. Because sometimes the best stories aren’t the ones we set out to write. They’re the ones life writes for us…Usually over a glass of sweet tea and a second chance.

Bless your heart