‘This is a helluva place to wake up on Father’s Day,’ I said to my friend in a video message I sent her this past Sunday. Paying homage to the name of the brand-new hotel, Sleep Inn, built on the edge of our beloved town and perched on the bank of the Tennessee River, I let my sweet husband and daughter…sleep in. I ventured down in search of coffee, a workout and the sunrise. Instead, I found myself enveloped in a space that shifted my life’s trajectory more than any other pl

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