I’m a porch sitter, y’all. I always have been. When I was little, I’d sit on the back porch after dinner with Papaw to listen to the creek and watch the cattle graze. After I moved to Wilmington, I’d sit on mama’s front porch to star gaze. It’s something I’ve never grown out of.
Last night, when Brandon laid down on his pillow, he discovered a hard lump. To him, this was no big deal. He readjusted his feather pillows and laid back down. But a subtle dread settled over me. I laid in bed long after he’d fallen asleep, thinking of death crowns.
Have you ever held a buttercup under someone’s chin to see if they like butter? According to folklore, if their chin glows yellow, they do.