My food advice to a new mom, April 2009: With Shep, I was super mom. Tried everything, waited three days to introduce new stuff, etc etc. With Eva Rose, she had reflux so bad, she spit up everything she ate. So she got mostly white stuff to avoid stains. Lots of mashed potatoes ;) With Maggie, she had a tongue thrust so she started solids later, like 6 months. She got whatever was available. Ike was lucky if he got fed at all. So, yeah, I am not real stringent about introducing food!! I say give her whatever. If there is no history of allergies in the family, she should be just fine. You can take whatever y'all are eating and throw it in the blender. The only thing I was careful with was honey. And bananas, sometimes they cause constipation, but if you mix them with prunes then problem solved. You can try giving her chunkier stuff, like stage 2, if she does not like it yet, she will just spit it out. As soon as she has her pincer grasp, you can give her pick up foods. You can try giving her some puffs now - they melt on her tongue so she can't choke. Once she is down with the puffs, give her a cheerio and see how she does. She may gag a little - remember gagging and choking are two different things. My kids were all awesome eaters, but I don't think any of them liked the peas! Since she loves the peas, mix about 2/3 peas and 1/3 carrots and that way you can get the carrots in her. Or mix it with applesauce, they will eat anything mixed with applesauce! Or yogurt! If you make sweet potatoes or butternut squash yourself I bet she will love it - you just cook it in the microwave and then throw it in the blender. Mixed with peas - yum!! Can put some butter or cinnamon in there too if you feel fancy. Another great first food is mushed up avocado. In many countries, avocado is a baby's first food.

 This am in the car:

Bethie: Mom, I still have these little bumps on my legs.

Ike: Mumps.

Me: Yup. Leg mumps.

Bethie: What? What are Leg Mumps?

Me: They’re caused by a certain type of worm that gets in your body.

(Pause)

Bethie: I’m not falling for that.

Sigh. Another fun era has ended. 😞

 It’s 11:08pm, I’m lying in bed, in the dark, watching testimony from the Murdaugh case, which just happens to be that of the attorney Mallory Beach’s parents hired after their 19yo daughter was killed by her drunk 19yo friend, and my phone rings: SHEP. My 19yo son. 

My heart stops. “What’s wrong?!?”

“Momma?” 

“”YES WHAT’S WRONG?!?”

“Hey Momma. Can you please put $1.40 in my account so I can buy some ramen? I only have .60 and I’m real real hungry.”

He can thank this awful trial that I sent him the $1.40 plus a bonus.

One time Daddy told me that our last name is French, and it means French Fry. Then I told all my friends at school and everybody laughed at me! 

- Bethie

Bethie’s Tooth Fairy 🧚‍♀️ is the absolute worst. She always has excuses for why she forgets to bring her her rightful pay. The big sisters channel the fairy to write the pitiful apology notes. Past excuses include: on her honeymoon; got Covid; attacked by the cats, etc etc. B is back owed for 3 teeth, one from a whole month ago. I guess it’s understandable.

 A Real Life Halloween Horror Story.  

So, over COVID , to help lift moods and family morale, Missy Hooks Dollahon thought that it would be a good idea for us to foster kittens.  I am not an “animal person”, mind you, but gamely went along with the scheme in the spirit of unity.

Our first litter was a mom and five kittens...and that went well enough...but this second litter...three little rascals...are monster biters and scratchers!  They also, oddly love me, although I don’t give them any attention.  I can’t sit still without one of them climbing up on me and eventually biting my knee or knuckle.  Little #^%ers!!!

At night, they sometimes sneak in our bedroom and because I’m a big warm lumpy guy tuck themselves within the folds and creases of my beautiful, fleshy corpus.  This is a little terrifying in that I live in drowsy fear that I’ll roll over and utterly pancake one of them unknowingly...

But, sometimes they like to “play”.  In the darkest pit of night.  Which means they skitter about me and eventually - always - bite me somewhere painful.  Like the thin, parchment skin around my ankles...or a toe...

I will then have to get up and round them all up and then throw them outside our bedroom and firmly lock the door.

So the other night...  The kittens entered our bedroom and found Their Favorite...and like other nights couched themselves purring and peaceful around their most cherished “jelly rolls”....and then, hours later...roused themselves for a bit of midnight fun...and as they minced and capered around me one of them saw something inviting and intriguing to naw on...there...just in neath the thinnest price of fabric...

I SAT UP AND SHRIEKED IN BLINDING PAIN.   

Yes...

One of the kittens had decided to chomp down hard atop what is sometimes medically described as ones “Hooded Warrior”.  

My “Top Hat and Tails”.

My “Meat With Two Veg”.

Tiny little fang-like daggers...eager to make mince of Your Trusted Author’s “Master Of Ceremonies”.

I am still in recovery.

Stars

My grandfather Chester (b. 1913) told me a story about how when he was a boy he knew an old woman who had been a slave.  I wish I could remember her name - they all called her Aunt something?  Or Granny? He said she was so old, the children would always ask her how old she was, and she would always answer, “don’t know when I was born, don’t know when I’ll die, but I was born when the stars fell out of the sky.” 

I’ve long wondered what she was referring to, and figured it must have been a local meteor shower. I’ve tried to research it before but found nothing. Then today, reading the Texas Slave Narratives, I came across this quote from Sylvester Brooks, a slave of Josiah Collier in Green Co, Alabama: 

"Old Marse often told me 'bout de stars fallin'. It was 'long 'bout sundown and growed dark all a sudden and de chickens goes to roost. Den some stars with long tails 'gins to shoot, den it look like all de stars had come out of Heaven, and did dey fall! De stars not all what fell. De white folks and de niggers fell on dere knees, prayin' to Gawd to save dem iffen de world comin' to a end, and de women folks all run down in de cellar and stayed till mornin'. Old Marse say it was in 1833, and he say dem stars fall awhile and quit awhile, like de showers when it rains."

This must be what it was! The storms happen every 33 years but it must have been the 1833 storm for her to be considered ancient by 1920 or so when Chester was a boy. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leonids

Mom, did Jesus die on Black Friday?
- bethie 

Our room gets really stuffy at night.
Maggie is watching some YouTube crap in the family room so I said, when you go to bed could you open our door?

She replied, “I’ll open your chest & rip out your entrails”

I only dreamed parenting could be like this. 

Maggie, talking about babies coming:

"...when the seagull drops the baby through the chimney."

Eva: Seagull?

Maggie: Wait. Not seagull. Pelican! When the pelican drops the baby through the chimney."

Mom, why do people get post-mortem depression?
-- Maggie

The Lazy Poem

October 2014

The Lazy Poem

Aka, the Maggie Poem 

By Evangeline Dollahon, age 10

(written on a napkin, just like the Gettysburg Address)

My butt sinks deeper into the couch

The tv is blaring, I tend to slouch

Popcorn kernels litter the floor,

Don't feel like getting up to get any more

Soda cans towering 

People are cowering 

They call it crazy

I call it lazy.

“Eva, we open bibles, not legs.”
- Maggie Dollahon
6-2-19

Walker's mom has been staying with us a couple of days, helping to watch Bethie while I pack. The concensus: "She seems better adjusted than, you know, most of the other grandkids" and "I think she is upping the Dollahon IQ pool." #Bethieforthewin

I love it when Walker Dollahon whispers sweet nothings in my ear, like "loving you is the sanctification scheme God had for my life ..." 💋

 So Missy Hooks Dollahon and I went to BurgerFi for lunch...

Walker:  I'll take a BurgerFi double cheeseburger garden style.

Cashier:  You want tomatoes on that?

Walker:  Yes, everything on it.

Cashier:  Lettuce too?

Walker: Yes, it's the garden style one I want (note:  the burger that's wrapped in lettuce where the bun should be).

Cashier:  And onions too?

Walker:  Yes, everything on it.  The works.

Cashier:  And the BurgerFi sauce?

Walker:  Yep.  Load the thing up to bear.

Cashier:  Pickles too?

Walker:  Yes.  Everything on it, please.

Cashier:  Okay, for you Miss?

Missy:  I'll take a Burgerfi Cheeseburger with everything on it.

Cashier:  You want tomatoes on that?

Missy:  Yes, please.  Everything on it...

***  AND THIS IS WHEN A SPACE TIME CONTINUUM WAS TORN INTO THE FABRIC OF MATTER AROUND US FROM OUR COLLETIVE RAGE AND FURY AND WE BRIEFLY SAW TIME AND LIFE ITSELF UNFOLD LIKE A SPOOL OUT FROM OUR VANTAGE POINT BEFORE WE RESUMED OUR PERCH ON THE BLUE ORB WE CALL EARTH AND WE STARED AT EACHOTHER WITH SLACK JAWS AND DIMMED MINDS  ***

(Backup) [Auto-saved Post]

2-16-2016

Maggie came to my yesterday. She was topless, and she had taken a tank top and wrapped it around her like a g string, and she goes "Look! I'm Miley Cyrus!!"

First I was concerned, then I just remembered, that's just Maggie:

 Maggie: my toe is bweeding! it's hurting! me: why? 

Maggie: because I bit it! 

Um. Well then.

2010

Shep: Are y'all organ donors? 

Walker: Well, I gave away a piano a few years ago...

"Wh I grow up, I'm gonna be the mom who pins lots of things on her Pinterest board to do with the kids ... and then never actually does them." - Maggie

The nut doesn't fall far from the tree.

"This makes me rethink making friends."

Ike, upon hearing about Dad comparing poops with his friends in college 

2-16-2016

Maggie came to my yesterday. She was topless, and she had taken a tank top and wrapped it around her like a g string, and she goes "Look! I'm Miley Cyrus!!"

First I was concerned, then I just remembered, that's just Maggie:

"Bethie. Go away. I'm pooping. I like to poop all by myself."

"But the door is closed. I'm not looking at you."

"I don't want to be spoken to either. I like to poop ALONE."

"That's weird."

Yeah. I'm the weird one.

Shep, reflecting on my upset stomach: 

Wow, that must be really awkward, when you get married...

Me: what, you mean the farts and the burps and stuff? Well, you don't start farting and burping right away, you try and keep that hidden for a while.  Unless, you know, you get pregnant three weeks after your wedding, then all bets are off. 

Shep: Poor Dad. 

Indeed. 

 

Bethie: I want to have a quiet day. No music, no TV, no talking. Just you and me. Quiet.
Me: You're in the wrong house, girl.
Bethie: Then I think I should move to Rubi's house. It's quiet there.

I just found an email I sent to Hillary Powell in 2006:

"Well, let me tell ya. Today my first daughter was THE DEVIL. She is very very TWO. She does not seem to throw normal tantrums when she does not get what she wants, she uses this devil voice to scream at you. Picture REDRUM. Or the Exorcist. I am serious, it hurts my ears and my spine and it is NOT cute. And then Miss Maggie Belle, she has learned how to pull up in her crib but not how to get down. So her thing is to stand up the whole time she is supposed to be napping and alternately yell and giggle. And so I go up, lie her down, and before i am down the stairs, she is up again. She did not nap ALL day today. I was so aggravated when my mom called she threatened to call CPS on me and I actually told her to go ahead, I could use the break from them both. So, there goes my mother of the year award."

Eva is 5'7. Hoping she'll grow two more inches. (Obviously the vacation I took to Chernobyl when I was pregnant affected her.) Maggie is 5'. Hoping the same. 🤣

(Working on family calendar)
Bethie! November 30 is your Dollahonaversary! (The day we passed court)
Bee: really! So I can do anything I want that day!
Me: um, ok
Bee: yea! So I can get a tattoo!

Upon further questioning, she wants My Little Pony tattooed on her eyelids.

When Shep was tiny I had the "bedtime routine" all the books said you should: bath, book, rock, sing, lay down, pray he didn't cry, if he did, start over, rinse repeat. Took like 30 minutes at least.

The first time I saw Walker put him to bed, he went upstairs. Then about 30 SECONDS later he came back downstairs.

I was like, what??? Did you rock him? Did you do The Routine?

Walker said "um, I laid him down in the crib, and I, like, walked out..? That's what I always do - ?"

"You didn't rock him??"

"I never rock him."

"He didn't cry??"

"He never cries."

That's when I realized I was being played - by my 4 month old.

I did not grow up in a large family. Therefore, as a mother, much of our daily familial life is novel and surprising to me. For example, I was unaware that, in a family of seven souls, one might ask, "WHO FARTED?!?" seven, eight, perhaps even nine times in any God given day.

Hashtag blessed. 

Watching Dead Ringer with Bette Davis
Me: I hate it when I kill my twin and assume her identity and then it turns out she had murdered her husband and then I get the death penalty....
Maggie: Everyday struggles. 

It takes a lot of energy to be blessed.
Eva 

When Walker, weeks shy of becoming 5, was about to start kindergarten in Pensacola, a neighbor advised me solemnly that I should prepare him. What? 

He didn't know how to count, his ABC's, what street he lived on, his birthday. Oh, my.

I started out with something simple.

"What's your name?"

"Walker."

"What's your other name?"

"Dollahon."

"O.K. You have THREE names. What's the middle one?"

"Ma-jean."

-Mimi

She shrugs her frail shoulders 

And stands against the tide 

She acts as if words don't hurt 

That stares don't make her hide 

She prepares herself from torture 

Something she remembers from long ago

When she let the world defeat her 

When she trembled and didn't say "no"

She feels each deadly poison knife

Each cold and brutal hand 

Strength isn't what you overcome 

It's what you can withstand 

One of the ways I fell for Walker: I used to get a Word of the Day emailed to me, some random word, with the definition. Periodically I would forward one to Walker and his friend Dave, and they had to compete to come up with the best sentence (which would often turn into an essay), and I would judge the winner. I would often cry, cry I tell you, CRY with laughter.

Bethie: Mom, leggings are not pants.

Me: These aren't leggings, they're YOGA pants. They're okay.

Bethie (scrutinizes, then shakes head): No Mom. Those are leggings. And leggings are not pants.

I forgot that if you tell a 13yo boy 'I'll give you $10 if you drink this" that even if you were joking, they'll take you up on it.

Tepid water that had been used to boil hot dogs. I almost threw up. He did throw up. But he got his $10!

The Mystery of Roanoke by Eva Dollahon

 The Mystery of Roanoke by Eva Dollahon 

Eleanor Dare watched her father’s ship sail into the horizon, the sails flapping gently in the wind. Her daughter, Virginia, cooed in her arms, her tiny hands waving around aimlessly in the air. Virginia was just over a week old, and Eleanor felt that her father was leaving too soon after her birth, but the colony needed supplies.

   Eleanor smiled down at Virginia. Her chubby cheeks were red from the slowly-chilling weather, and Eleanor’s hands felt numb inside of her baby’s blankets. She trudged back up the beach to the colony.

   Eleanor’s father, John White, was appointed governor of the Roanoke colony by Sir Walter Raleigh, and he was very proud of his rank. In 1587, Eleanor’s father led a group of 117 people to the New World. He was ordered to lead the colony and keep it running smoothly, so of course he knew it was his responsibility to return to England when the small colony ran low on supplies. But Eleanor couldn’t help thinking if only it had been later after Virginia was born.

   Virginia was born a very healthy baby, and was nailed with a title she would carry for the rest of her life: the first baby born in the New World.

   Eleanor was a proud mother. She knew long before the colony reached the New World that she would be the mother of an important baby in English history.

   By the time Eleanor reached the family’s one-roomed cabin, Virginia was beginning to grow heavy in her arms. Eleanor’s husband, Ananias, sat outside the door waiting for her. When he saw Eleanor, he smiled and said, “Has your father left the docks yet?”

   Eleanor looked down at sleeping Virginia in her arms. “Yes. I miss him already,” she answered.

   Ananias stood up and walked over to his wife. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back soon,” he said, knowing Eleanor longed for her father.

   Eleanor nodded and walked into the doorway of the house. Her skirt tracked sand from the beach and Eleanor sighed knowing she would have to wash it again. She put Virginia in her small crib that her father had made her before he had left. “A little going away present,” he had said. “So you won’t miss me too much.”

   Virginia wrapped her tiny hands around the bars of the crib and drooled. Eleanor grabbed her apron and wiped her chin. She was very tired and she knew she needed to sleep. She sat down on the bed she shared with Ananias and fell into a hard, uncomfortable sleep.

   Days passed. It had been almost three years since Eleanor had seen her father. It was as of she had forgotten his voice. He seemed so far away.

   One morning, Eleanor was feeling particularly sad. There was small breakfast for the people of the colony. Eleanor gritted her teeth as people complained about the food shortage and how they blamed her father for not being prepared. “Maybe he wanted this to happen!” One colonist exclaimed. Eleanor knew him by the name of William. “We should have never boarded that ship! And I’ll bet you anything he purposely attacked those filthy savages!”

   Eleanor glared at William, and he stopped talking. She stood on top of a tree stump, one that the people had used to build their houses.

   “I know times are tough, but you cannot blame my father for this. We will have all the things we need soon. For now, we need to make the best of what we have.”

   William rolled his eyes. Ananias glared.

   Before the colony had arrived in the New World, fifteen Englishmen had come to map the land and prepare it for the colony came. When Eleanor and the rest of the people had finally set foot on the land, all fifteen men were gone; bones left half-buried in their place.

   Eleanor’s father was enraged. He knew that the native savages had killed them, and he decided to approach the nearest tribe: The Croatoans. The chief, who was called Chief Manteo, told Eleanor’s father, John White, that the Secotan, Aquascogoc, and Dasamongueponke warriors had attacked the men and killed them. After Eleanor’s father received this news, he led a few of his men out to launch an attack on the Dasamongueponke Indians, but soon realized their big mistake: They had accidently mistaken the Dasamongueponke Indians for the Croatoans, and now the colony lived in constant fear of attack by the once-friendly tribe.

   Eleanor had liked the Croatoan’s; they had come to the settlement once before. They were very friendly, and they seemed very much unlike the stories of the gruesome and violent animals that other colonies had ran into and failed because of. But despite their mischaracterized personalities, Eleanor still knew of the long bows they carried and the sharp knifes they held. They had to be used for something other than hunting.

   Eleanor’s father had told the colony not to worry, that the Indians were nothing to be afraid of, but Eleanor and the rest of the colony were still wary even though the Indians had showed no sign of hostility towards the people.

   Eleanor missed her father. He was strong man, full of hope for the colony. Eleanor hoped that he was right, though, as sometimes optimism can bring false hope.

   Later that night, Eleanor sat on her bed in the cabin. Virginia slept in her crib. Ananias lay on the bed, asleep from all the day’s work. Eleanor, no matter how hard she tried, couldn’t sleep. Her stomach sat empty, her longing for her father over-whelming. She blew out her candle and put her head on the pillow. The straw mattress felt scratchy on her skin. 

   Suddenly a scream rose from a neighboring cabin. Eleanor Dare jumped up. She sat in silence for a second. She knew she hadn’t been dreaming. Eleanor took deep breaths and listened. Footsteps stirred the leaves around the cabin. 

   Another scream rang out, but was cut off. Fear enveloped Eleanor, her heart beat fast. She turned to wake Ananias, but heard the door creak open a sliver. Eleanor ran to the crib. 

   “Who are you!?” Eleanor screamed. More yelling voices could be heard around the settlement and more footsteps could be heard from outside. The door creaked open some more, and Eleanor braced herself for the worst.

   To Eleanor’s relief, one of Eleanor’s neighbors, the one who had complained earlier that day, stood in the door way. He ran in, breathing heavily.

   “What’s going on, William?” Eleanor whispered. 

   “We’re under attack.”

   Dread filled Eleanor’s empty stomach. She felt time freeze. She wanted her father. He would know what to do. He would save them all. But he wasn’t here, Eleanor thought with a sickening realization.

   William grabbed Eleanor’s shoulders. “You’ve got to get out of here if you want to live!” 

   When Eleanor didn’t respond, William slapped her hard across the face. Eleanor lifted her hand to her face. William pulled her arm. “We’re going to die! Hurry!”

   “Ananias!” Eleanor exclaimed. She ran over to the side of his bed and pushed him. He sat up and stared at Eleanor before seeing the terror in her eyes, as they seemed to say it all. He grabbed Virginia from her crib and rushed outside, Eleanor trailing not far behind. 

   Outside was total chaos. People were screaming left and right. Fire from torches burned on the rooftops and children clung to their mothers. Eleanor ran beside Ananias, who was clutching wailing Virginia tightly in his arms.

   Then Eleanor saw them: tall dark-skinned men with long bows knocking against their backs as they ran. Their knives were used, as Eleanor could see, and she stifled a scream. They hid in the shadows like swirling darkness, and Eleanor felt like she was re-living her worst nightmare.

   As Eleanor and Ananias ran, tears continued to flow down Eleanor’s face. Once they had reached the borders of the settlement, Eleanor saw one of the colonist drag his knife against the tall, wooden poles that surrounded the colony. CROATOAN, he wrote in large slanted letters.

   So her father would know.

   As Eleanor ran into the forest, she knew that when her father returned, he would not know what happened. What use did the word CROATOAN do for him? She knew she had to try to get her father to understand. She had to lead him to her.

   The next morning, sunlight crept through the branches of the tall trees within the forest. Eleanor woke up in the middle of a clearing. She didn’t remember falling asleep. She must have collapsed from running too long.

   As her vision cleared, Eleanor Dare realized that she was all alone. None of her colony could be seen, but more importantly her family.

   “ANANIAS!” Eleanor screamed. “VIRGINIA!”

   Eleanor felt her eyes grow hot. She sat up, pulling herself up, but quickly fell down in pain. Her ankle was twisted at a funny angle, and Eleanor cursed under her breath.

   “Ananias!”

   No one answered in the bushes. Eleanor dragged herself forward, flinching every time her foot hit a rock. She moved a few feet in one hour, but eventually gave up. Crying, she lay down in the leaves and fell asleep. 

   When her eyes opened again, she remembered how the words CROATOAN were etched into her mind. She thought for a while about what she could do so her father would find her.

   She must not have run too far from the camp. She knew that when her father landed he would look in a wide circle around the settlement, a few miles at the least. She had to leave a clue… something so that he would know where to come find her.

   Suddenly Eleanor had an idea. She found a large rock from by a stream and another smaller sharp rock nearby. She used the small rock to press letters into the soft stone. When she was done she admired her work. The first Dare Stone: a gravestone for her lost husband and daughter.

Ananias Dare &

Virginia Went Hence

Unto Heaven 1591

Anye Englishman Shew

John White Govr Via

   Eleanor’s ankle became better after a few days after she found some herbs that seemed to numb the pain. When the Indians had come to the settlement the first time, Eleanor watched a young girl place some of the same herb onto a small boy’s bent fingers. It seemed to help, so Eleanor was relieved when she found the prickly plant near the riverbed.

   Soon she could walk, and she walked a few miles west. Every once in a while, she placed another stone so her father would find her. She followed the river, taking breaks every few hours. It seemed the particular soft stone was plentiful near the river, so Eleanor had a lot of material to work with.

   Time passed slowly. Eleanor’s father had still not returned, or at least ventured far enough to find her. Eleanor felt her hope slip away like sand in the palm. 

   One day, Eleanor was finishing up one of her stones. She brushed her hand on the surface of the rock. Behind her, a twig snapped. “Hello?” Eleanor called out. “Father?” 

   Eleanor’s heart lifted. Could it be? She hadn’t seen a single person for over a year. She wished with all her heart that the sound had been a loving soul that could lead her home. But alas, she was an optimist like her father, and now she had brought herself false hope.

   An Indian appeared out of the brush. Eleanor jumped. All around her, more men appeared, each with a bow as tall as Eleanor. They spoke to each other in fast, hushed tones, as if they were worried Eleanor could understand them. The first Indian raised his bow. More followed his lead until Eleanor felt like the whole world was pointing sharp, accusing fingers in her direction.

   “Please,” Eleanor begged. She hoped that the Indians were Croatoans, and that maybe they remembered her and had some sympathy, but she knew that she was too far to still be in their territory. “I need to find my father. I can’t die! Please!” 

   The Indian pulled his bow back despite Eleanor’s pleads. Eleanor knew that this was the end of her story.

  

John White paced on the deck of his ship. It had been a rough journey from England. Storms came often and water ran low. But the worst thing about the journey was that John missed his daughter – beautiful Eleanor – and his grand-daughter, Virginia.

His heart ached terribly for his family. It had been three years since he’d left them. He hadn’t intended for him to be away so long, but war in England made it incredibly hard for him to set sail.

John thought about the last time he had seen Eleanor. She was standing on the beach. He had hugged her. John remembered the feelings that that hug would be the last, and it had haunted him all the way back to his homeland. 

But now John was too excited to worry about such things. They had been sailing for almost three months now, and according to his calculations, they should be finding land any day now.

Suddenly from above, a man’s voice echoed in the morning air. “LAND HO!”

John’s heart jumped. In the distance was a small strip of land, maybe a mile away. He was so close, so close to what he loved most.

When the ship had moved a little closer to the island, the crew began to lower a lifeboat down the side of the ship. It landed in the water with a satisfying splash.

“Okay, men. Today we shall see our loved ones again. We shall see our home again. We shall see all that we have missed! I will bring five men including me to see the island first and arrange for more lifeboats. Who will go with me?”

Men cheered and waved arms. William picked four men and they climbed into the boat.

Once they had reached the island, John jumped out before anyone else. He ran up the beach, ignoring the sand in his boots. He ran through brush and trees. By the time he got to the colony, he was out of breath, sweat dripping down his face. “Eleanor! My beautiful Eleanor! I have returned!”

No one answered. John walked into the village and looked around. His heart fell to his feet.

Half the houses were burned to the ground and all were empty. Not a soul was in sight, but most importantly his beloved Eleanor. John couldn’t see anything anymore – the tears mixed with the sand on his face.

John stumbled to Eleanor’s house, or what remained of it. Half of it was completely gone, the other half burned. In the corner lay the blackened remains of the crib that John had given to his daughter before he had left.

So she wouldn’t miss him so much.

John stared at the crib. He knew right then that he would never see Eleanor again. And as he stared at the ruined house, John knew that his entire world had burned away.

John turned. There was no reason to stay in the wretched place. He walked toward the beach wen something caught his eye – there, on the tall wooden poles that had bordered the settlement, were the words CROATOAN, written in jagged letters. John leaned against the poles and traced the letters with his hand. The Croatoans had done this, he thought. The Croatoans killed my daughter.

And with that, John White returned to England.

(This was a class assignment, which is why she finished it. After I read it, I gasped and said, You killed them!! She answered, Yep. I killed 'em all.)

opened the laptop to this - maybe her writer's block is ending!

    My brother and I sat under the crape myrtle tree, silent except for the soft sound of his breath. I gazed off over the farm, watching the tall corn stalks sway slightly in the breeze, hearing the faraway sound of a truck down on the main road.
Henry played with a piece of grass, twirling it around in his hands. He was shirtless; when we had run up the hill he’d taken off his shirt due to the beginning-of-summer heat. His hair stuck up in the back, but he didn’t care. Yet, anyway. He was approaching that age where people got mean and people started caring more. But he probably already sorta knew what that was like. Henry was probably used to that already.
“Hey, Nora, do you think Dad’s home yet?” Henry said. He looked towards me, hopeful. His nose and cheekbones were sprinkled with freckles.
“I dunno,” I said, knowing perfectly well he wasn’t. The farm was failing, and Dad spent quite a lot of time in town, trying to solve his problems. I think Henry thought he was looking for a new job, but I knew he was trying to solve his problems in a bar somewhere. I think Mom thought that too. I could hear him come home some nights, if I stayed up reading long enough.
Henry pulled his legs up to his bare chest, flinging the blade of grass to the wind. It fluttered for a moment before landing at the trunk of another tree. He didn’t see.
“Maybe we should go down there, Nora. To check.”
I frowned. Henry, he’s not home. Grow up. Notice things, I thought. “Nah, it’s nice up here. Plus Mom’s just going to put us to work,” I said impatiently.
We were quiet for a little while after that. Henry seemed irritated, based on the concerned look on his face.
I took in the beauty of the country around me. To the east, there was a large apple orchard. By now, small green bulbs were showing in the leaves. I couldn’t wait for apple picking. To the west, our house lay, definitely needing a paint job.

 In the Kiker kindergarten classes this year, there is an Eva, an Evie, and an Eve. 

Not one Shepherd, Magdalene, Ingram or Bethlehem though.

So we got an 80% in Weird Names, which qualifies us for the finals. #goTeamD

Turns out Bethie is obsessed with a mole on Eva's stomach named Moses.
Bethie: MOSES!
Eva: No Bethie!
Bethie: Moses is my only friend.
Eva: Bethie that's CREEPY.
Bethie: You make Moses sad!

Eva: I spy with my little eye... something black.
Maggie: That chair?
Eva: Nope
Maggie: That shoe?
Eva: No.
Maggie: Your soul?