Memories of a Low Country Childhood

(Photo by Ace Cazar from Pexels)

It was risky, you see, running barefoot down the dock.

Those days I was all sinew wrapped in terrycloth, skin riper than it should have been, teeth so small they didn’t touch one another, just ivory islands in my popsicle-stained gums.

My god, how we screamed and cackled and hip-hip-hoorayed our way to sunset — those humming, chirping sunsets when the sky bleeds into the water…