On These Days

On these days, a WaveRunner was left behind at the Big Black River boat ramp.

Catfish skulls hung from a power pole.

A copy of When You Love a Book sat inside a Little Free Library. One page read, "A book is an engine who knew that she could." Another promised, "A book says 'I love you' right up to the moon."

In a fabric store, Mennonite girls wandered past bolts printed with forests, fireworks, and American flags before stopping at a roll of bright yellow satin.

"This fabric is literally the prettiest yellow."

"Let's get it and make something to match."

"I don't want to be too flashy."

A chicken stood outside the Chevron in Buckatunna. A woman passed by saying,

"They aren't kidding when they say fresh chicken."

White grass moths drifted near the graves of civil rights pioneers Cornelius and Mabel Steele, who were beaten at Zion United Methodist Church in Philadelphia the night it was burned.

Nearby, a hand-painted rock at the memorial to James Chaney, Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner read:

"The time is always right to do what is right." — Martin Luther King Jr.

A few miles away, tents were going up for the annual celebration at Nanih Waiya, the sacred mound where the Choctaw believe their people began.

And every morning at Strong River Camp, the day still begins the same way:

"This is the first day of the rest of your life, so make the most of it."

All on these days.