Growing up, our kitchen was a battlefield. The signal to batten down the hatches? Dad’s lunch pail, landing with the force of righteous thunder on the chipped counter. That clanging thermos had more authority than the President. “This is my house,” he’d declare, chest out, sweat still fresh on his brow. “I pay the bills. I’m the boss.�

No One Told You It Would Hurt This LongBy Roy Dawson, Earth Angel, Master Magical HealerA Man Who’s Seen Too Much and Learned to Stand StillI have always wished people the best. Truly.I love seeing people succeed. I love seeing people happy. And I mean it when I say that. But you’d be surprised how many folks look at you sideways when you say s

The Storm Came Without AskingThe thing about storms is—they never ask permission.They don’t knock. They arrive. Sudden. Unforgiving.You might catch the sky darkening, but by then, it’s already too late.The wind’s tearing at the door, and it doesn’t care if you're ready.Doesn’t care if you just set your life in order,or if your hands are