Standing outside Ms. Byrd’s third-grade classroom at Audubon Elementary in Merritt Island, Florida, my body shook and tears rolled down my cheeks. I felt the sweetness of her reassuring voice as Ms. Byrd stepped closer to me, letting her classroom door gently close behind her when my body began its undoing in the outdoor hallway of this Brevard County public school. I clicked into my brain, readjusted my shoulders, and reminded myself of the importance of performance. After a

‘You’re just so traditional.’ Never mind how I ended up at the dinner table with this woman who, quite frankly, electrocuted my inner energy in a way that triggered the universe of human nature to send a warning to my thoughts: ‘Slow down, Crystal… don’t fully open the door for her…’ As I’ve grown older, I’ve become what some would call an over-sharer. Maybe it’s because I locked in so hard during my 20s that my memories finally feel free enough to spill out now that I’ve arr

The University of Memphis, English Building, freshman composition. 1997. A young graduate assistant teacher pushes a television cart into the classroom and tells us to write our first paper on the video he’s about to play. Seconds into the song, the opening electric guitar riffs wrap around me with familiarity just as the harmonica hooks join in… ‘Mary Jane’s Last Dance,’ by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. I prefer listening to great songs with my eyes closed, but this was a