On late mornings in July, my dad would slip two slices of KUB rye bread in the toaster and pull them out just at the moment they were golden. Then he’d push butter over one slice and place the tomatoes, cut paper thin with the knife he’d just sharpened, on top of it. He’d spread Hellmann’s mayonnaise over the other piece of bread and finally crown his creation with it.

I’d taste the drizzle of butter soaked in the craters of the toast and the mayo blending with the sweetness of the fruit. Even before I’d finished, I’d ask for another.

It was just a toasted tomato sandwich, but there was a lot packed between those slices: memories of my dad, the smell of the garden, what my childhood felt like, the lightness that comes with summer.

This space is for celebrating the beauty that comes from things just like those simple sandwiches. The entries are mostly copies of columns that I submit to a little newspaper in London, Ky., each week.

I’ve been writing the column for nearly twenty years and in that time, I’ve learned how powerfully people connect to the everyday, whether I’m talking about rotary telephones or trying to get pregnant or figuring out what to make for dinner. To me, it’s proof life really does live in the details, those magic minutiae that let us relate to each other in an indelible way.

As for me, I’m originally from Manitoba, Canada, and moved to Kentucky a few months before my first column appeared in The Sentinel-Echo. I moved for the love of my life, William, but it was the newspaper and the column that righted me, giving me a space of my own so I could find whole happiness here. Now I’d like to share those columns and other musings with you.

Thanks for reading,

Tara