I have come home to bury my mother. Home to Pine Hollow in the rolling green hills of Panola County, where the muddy Sabine flows just to our east. Here my mother Mae Bonner was born and raised, as were her mother and grandmother before her. She loved this little town and never left its confines, no matter what sirens called in the distance.
I slept in Mama’s bed last night, or at least tried to sleep. The crickets chirping from the back woods didn’t lull me as they had done when I was a little girl, lying with the window open to catch any stray breezes, so I stayed up most of the night trying to write a eulogy. But no words yielded to my pen. I finally gave up and pulled her collection of poetry books from the ...