Featured Short Story
The Power of Sharing our Family Stories
I had never traveled anywhere alone. I know riding a bus from Macon to Atlanta, Georgia, with strangers was not long-distance, but it was frightening and exciting for an 18-year-old.
My mom died when I was 13, and I lived with my brother and sister-in-law. The trip was a graduation gift to visit my aunts, who I hardly knew. They thought it would be good for me to hear my mom’s stories and learn what she was like as a young girl.
The bus arrived late that night at a bustling bus station on Peachtree street, but no one greeted me. My aunt and uncle could not drive after dark, so I had to take a taxi to their home near Stone Mountain.
The taxi driver was a little frightening. He seemed to have taken a long way around for what was supposed to be a 15-minute drive, but when I lied and told him my uncle was a policeman, he suddenly found the right street, and my aunt was standing on the front porch waiting for me.
I spent the next few weeks visiti...
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