Dimestore (2016)
“The way we first hear language, for instance (old women on a porch, talking on and on as it gets dark) or how Mama smells (loose powder, cigarettes, Chanel No5). Or in particular, Christmas: my Aunt Bess’s quivery soprano on “O Holy Night” in the chilly stone church. The sharp strange smell of grapefruit, shipped from Florida in a wooden crate. The guns of Christmas morning, echoing around and around the ring of frosty mountains. How the air smells right before it snows, and how the sky looks, ...like the underside of a quilt. Oranges studded with cloves, in a bowl on a coffee table. The blazing fires in the oil drums as we go screaming down Hoot Owl Holler on our sleds (“sleigh-riding,” we call it), then get hauled back up the mountain in the back of somebody’s truck to do it all over again. My daddy in his dimestore wearing a red bow tie. All my images of the holiday season cluster around the dimestore, the Methodist Church, and my mama’s winter kitchen, which was always filled with people and food.MoreLess
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