Susan Byrum Rountree's Blog

i dreamed early one morning this week that my son-in-law gave me a gift. it was a small shopping bag with some tissue paper inside, and when i unfolded to paper, the most beautiful butterflies flew out. i kept trying to capture them, to make sure they didn't fly away, and i was only halfway successful.

to say these butterflies were beautiful is no apt description. they didn't look like butterflies at all, but like cotton bolls, intricate birds, feathers, with long, butterfly legs. when i unfol...

note: i know, i know... i'm terrible at keeping this thing up. but i finally found a story yesterday when i wasn't event looking. so there.

i called my mother yesterday. it was her wedding anniversary, the third one since my father died, and i'd forgotten to send her a card or a flower. we get busy in our lives, i know, and as i thought about the note or the flower, i realized that the one thing she wanted i couldn't give her. my voice would have to do.

how are you? i asked.

'tired,' she said.

fr...

I don't usually post these, but I realize not everybody reads the News & Observer, where my columns appear once a month on Sundays. So here it is. It appears in the Feb. 21 edition of the Arts & Living section. 

Perfect Pitch
Though I began my career slugging out words in a newsroom, for more than 20 years I worked from home. I loved the freelance life, leaving the office long enough to search for a story or meet with writing students, but I also loved that by the end of the day I...

it's the day after Valentine's Day. my husband and i have been bonding for the past five days but not as valentines. on thursday he had shoulder surgery... not the awful kind that takes weeks to recover from, but traumatic enough that he has been unable to drive or lift or pick up things or put his own clothes on at first.

in all these years of marriage, he's only been really ill two or three times, so he is not used to me taking care of him. i'm not used to it, either, but it's just part of w...

it's the day after Valentine's Day. my husband and i have been bonding for the past five days but not as valentines. on thursday he had shoulder surgery... not the awful kind that takes weeks to recover from, but traumatic enough that he has been unable to drive or lift or pick up things or put his own clothes on at first.

in all these years of marriage, he's only been really ill two or three times, so he is not used to me taking care of him. i'm not used to it, either, but it's just part of w...

this would be 
the Christmas 
that our children
gave us our past
in DVD without
our even asking.

we sat,
watching our 
younger selves
at just the ages 
the kids are now
maveling at 
how young we looked
and how rested,
at a time when 
we were not.

i had triangular hair
and I thought myself 
beautiful
though now 
it's questionable. 
at least i was thin.

it is also 
the Christmas
that the soul of
our family 
didn't make it.
and that happens
when dec...

my good friend Melanie posted a picture of the twin towers on her Facebook page today with these words:

The world feels more filled with hate, people fleeing for their lives like so many from these building 14 years ago. May we focus today on Lady Liberty who welcomed so many who came knowing a better life exists with freedom.

yes, the world does feel more filled with hate, and though we pray for peace, much of the world is just not seeing it. 

i wish i knew the answer. i do know that many...

sometimes the words i throw out into the world scatter and create new stories, all by themselves. sort of like children, i suspect. you raise a story up from that first uncertain word until it blooms into 700 or even thousands of words and then you nudge it out, into its own journey.

such is a story i published two weeks ago now, about the farm i share with my siblings — though none of us could wield a plow if we had to. shortly after the story ran, the emails began, mostly from people who hai...

i sit, staring into the eyes of
my five-week-old great niece Lucy, 
the two of us bound together
by blood
but not yet by story;
the only missive
we share is our 
week together
saying 'good morning'
and touching noses,
me bouncing her soft body
when she cries,
me trying to soothe, 
her trying to discover 
her new world;
and on this morning, 
our last together, 
she turns the corner 
of her mouth, just so 
into a soft, baby smile
and i know she is thinking
abou...

For the life of me, I can't recall what the story was about, but it involved Pinocchio, Geppeto, a mailman, a bunny, girls with hearts and Jiminy Cricket, and me — the girl on the second row, right end, scared to death of the cowboy next to me who claimed kin to Earl Scruggs. I remember I wore an itchy petticoat and white gloves (if you look closely, you can see them.) I am listed in the program only as 'girl'.

We were the Class of 1962 in Miss Lottie Welch's kindergarten — a tiny house i...