My mother Ruth has lived in the same little house outside Macon since 1976.
The cabinets stick, the porch light flickers, and she still knows which neighbor needs a plate after church. She worked in a carpet mill when her hands were young and later watched half the kids on our street for working parents.
This photo is her with morning coffee, trying not to smile because she hates being photographed.
Georgia is not just big names and big roads. It is women like her keeping families together.