Recently, I’ve found myself in a few social situations where the particular story I am about to tell comes up. And, it just so happens to be my twelfth wedding anniversary today, which is exactly when the story evolved. My husband says it feels more like twenty-five years rather than twelve, I could argue it feels more like thirty-five, but then again, it seems just like yesterday I was busy planning and getting squared away for the big wedding weekend.

Toward the middle of October, my children’s Fall Break snuck up on me like it does every year…like a damn Prius on a freshly paved driveway. While I listened to people’s plans of beach getaways and Dollywood roller coaster dreams, I racked my brain on something I could do to entertain my children while still getting some work done. I swear, every year brings another made up holiday, half day, or excuse for our kids to stay out of school and mess with the structure of our already chaotic lives. After much thinking, I finally decided on the perfect adventure. We would visit my older brother, his wife, and his four precious children. The only problem was that the visit would be in enemy territory.

It’s been quite a while since I put out one of my Sunday short stories. While this one may not be as humorous, it is most definitely filled with the ups and downs or different seasons of real life. I took a much-needed break in September after hitting my goal of one Sunday short story a week to focus on my day job that was starting to gear up. At the time, I was working in business development, event planning, and group sales for a Christmas event that was doing a trial run in Nashville. It was a test market that would either succeed or fail, and I was willing to go along for the risk to simply get myself out of the depressing world of healthcare. Besides, I love a themed party, I love Christmas, and I love people, so I thought it would be a slam dunk.

The month of November brings all kinds of things around our house. Between increased school functions, elementary basketball practices, shorter hours of light with longer days of work, the highly anticipated (or dreaded) hunting season, and gearing up for the holidays, our family calendar located above the dryer in our laundry room has become the holy grail of organization. If there’s something not to be missed, it must be put on the calendar- simple as that. Otherwise, the endless to do list of everyday life will drown out any mentally planned activity.

Back in the fall of 2019, before all the craziness that was 2020, I found myself gathered with friends in my favorite town of Oxford, Mississippi. A group of special people who filled the formative years of my college life had arrived for an Ole Miss football game, and being like any true Rebel fan, we used it as an opportunity (or excuse) to celebrate with one another. The cocktail hour was filled with reminiscence and laughter of the “good ole days” that just so happened to be during the exciting football years of 2000-2004.

When you live in the South, you are used to all kinds of critters popping up around the yard. Whether it’s a slithery snake in the garden, a sneaky skunk spraying a nosy hunting dog, or a curious raccoon raiding the garbage, it’s just the norm around here. However, there is one creature I simply cannot and will not get used to- the opossum. Besides, who could ever trust something with a silent “O” at the beginning of their name. What even is that?

As this week comes to an end, I reflect on the past year of my life. You see, it was around this time, one year ago, that I set out on a journey to officially shift my life from burnt out, unfulfilled, unhappy healthcare worker back to the creative and mostly positive person I have always truly been. It was on September 14, 2021 (my fortieth birthday) that I launched my writing website, my Sunday short stories, and announced my upcoming book. Some call it a mid-life crisis while I like to call it a return to my true self. Goals were set- to highlight other fantastic, artistic creatives and write a short story every single week for the next year. I had enough stories to start and honestly wasn’t sure how long it would last, but with the quirky everyday-isms that occur and the hilarious people I have been lucky enough to collect as friends along the way, I was able to meet my goal. Today marks the 52nd Sunday short story.

Labor Day weekend in the South consists of two important cultural events: dove hunting and the start of SEC football. At times, a very serious decision must be made when planning the holiday weekend - attend the football game or attend a dove hunt. Now, depending on the team you cheer for or whether you are a hunter, the choice may not be too difficult. Or you could always hunt and simply watch the games on television. But for my family, it is a little tough when our team is hosting a season opener. Lucky enough for us, this year we will be doing both.