“I’m living the American Dream.” His skin was black as the midnight sky. His accent was from somewhere in Africa, but I couldn’t place the region. He Read more...
Author: Amy Bryant
Ten dead, ten more hospitalized. Santa Fe, Texas. Yet another school massacre flashing all day long across the television screen. Interviews with frightened children, survivors of another Read more...
The family is visiting, and as happens each time, I find myself rediscovering my home through the tourist’s eye. Driving across the Courtney Campbell, they gasp at Read more...
When I was a little girl, I walked a mile to school, partially through the woods, alone or with a friend. The doors to the school house Read more...
I was raised in a predominantly white Northern community. We were one of five African American families. When the time came, my grandmother, father, and mother, each Read more...
I’m perfectly angled. The late afternoon sun is kissing my face and warming my body during this unseasonably cold Florida winter. I am the observer as my Read more...
Throughout 2017, a cloud of division has hung over our nation. I was saddened to learn that a number of my friends are experiencing diminished and even Read more...
As I ascended the opulent staircase, I was overcome with the feeling: I’ve been here before; I’ve climbed these stairs before. The mahogany paneling was all so Read more...
On Friday, all packed and ready to evacuate, I rushed for a late afternoon pedicure, determined to preserve a bit of normalcy. I spent the evening before Read more...
“Amy, what’s new?” “Nothing’s new . . . just the same old good stuff.” “Where are you traveling to this summer?” “Nowhere, I already live in a Read more...