In our second to last (dare I say penultimate?) semester at Appalachian, Josh and I got into a seminar class with Kathryn Stripling Byer, a visiting poet and the then-poet laureate of North Carolina.
Kay was instantly, obviously wonderful. Her clothes flowed, and her smile was warm. About ten of us wrote for her.
She invited us one evening a week to the octagonal cottage where she was staying. She tied a scarf around the mailbox, so we'd know we'd come to the right place. We talked about poetry and books and writing in general. Josh and I drank cheap raspberry soda in plastic wine glasses. Most of the time, it was just us, sometimes with another professor. We liked having Kay to ourselves. She obviously had great faith in us, as poets and as people. She also seemed delighted with us as a couple.
When Josh and I got married, Kay sent us a green-beaded, hanging candle holder that looked like a little chandelier. When Oliver was born, she sent us a blue glass bear ornament, which is hanging from a lamp on my desk.
Now, I'm reading the three books of hers that I haven't read yet. I don't know if it will make me feel closer to her or just make me miss her more.
Every time I remember that she's gone, my chest hurts.
Inspiring lists, sparkling reads, and quirky musings from a writer~reader~wife~mama~advocate who wants to seek, create, and savor life's sweet bits.
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