I haven’t written in a long while for whatever reason. But my loving Sis has been hounding me to try my hand once again, in fact, she sent me a link to Cowtown Pattie’s post “Where I am From”. It intrigued me, made me think, remember, and dream.
Here it is.
Where I’m From
I am from winding dirt roads, dusty and hot on little bare feet in the blazing heat of a summer day, that lazily meandering across the rural country side. I am from the heavenly aroma of wild sweet honeysuckle vines, twisted and clinging to rusted and sagging barbwire fences, a profusion of yellow and white blossoms and lush green leaves and vines, bumble bees swarming around my head attempting to sip the nectar the blooms provided. I am from a huge gray flat rock, jutting from the edge of the pasture into the edge of the woods and overhanging the hill that fell away to a tumbling clear creek, a passel of children roasting hotdogs, firm and red and dangling from a slim, green sapling branch, enjoying a peaceful Sunday afternoon around a pile of glowing embers.
I am from station wagons and weekly trips of grocery shopping each and every Saturday that God provided. I am from wild muscadines growing dense and green along the fencerows, the grape-like fruits were sweet and tangy and tart and delicious. I am from the cool, muted darkness of the woods, sheltered and refreshing in the summer’s blistering heat, huts made of vines and tree houses made of scavenged lumber and stolen nails and hammers. I am from the farm pond in the back pasture, deep and mysterious and clouded with red clay, muck and mud and cow patties. I am from rolling terraces of luxuriant red clover, sweet to smell and cool to the naked skin of a little girl’s leg as I tumbled downhill dodging bees.
I am from orange persimmons, tart and biting to the tongue as I waited for the bus every fall morning. I am from dotted Swiss dresses and shiny white leather shoes, frilly white little girl purses and white lacy hats at Easter. I am from lazy Saturday afternoons spent fishing with cane poles and dirty red wigglers in an old rusty coffee can along Rocky Ford, perched on the cool, damp creek bank under the cover of a thousand green leaves shading us from the sun. I am from hand churned ice cream, flavored with vanilla and eggs and rich, creamy canned milk. I am from cedar Christmas trees, chopped with an axe and dragged home, fragrant and prickly and green and decorated with Construction paper ornaments and popcorn chains.
I am from a house crowded with children and laughter and love. I am from home grown vegetables, big family dinners and spilled milk. I am from luxuriant green yards, vibrantly brilliant blue skies and the quiet hum of insects with none of today’s sounds of traffic and industry. I am from dim, dark outhouses and pure clean, clear water gushing from the ground, cool and delicious on your tongue. I am from the honest sweat of a hard day’s work staining my shirt and the feeling of accomplishment it brings at the end of the day. I am from never ending nights spent lying in the dew damp grass of the yard staring up at a million glowing stars hanging like fireflies in the night sky.
I am from 2 stick Popsicles for 10 cents and Nugrape and moon pies, stick bologna and Hoop cheese from the country store down the road. I am from long horseback rides down dusty, twisting gravel roads, from dragging home stray kittens and dogs and the occasional strange animal. I am from Sunday afternoon rambles in Mom’s car, with big Sis at the wheel, circling the Town Square trying to impress the local yokels with our charms and beauty. I am from skipping school and hiding our selves away in the Bankhead National Forest for a day of picnicking and rock climbing and a tryst of waiding in Mallard Creek's muddy red waters.
I am from the backbone of this country, farmers and blacksmiths, from Ireland and England and beyond. I am from a Cherokee princess and a voyager on the Mayflower. I am from a man I called Daddy, a sometimes harsh man, whose parents instilled the ethics and morals he passed on to his children, who worked from sun-up until sundown to provide a stable home and life for me. I am from a Mother who put my needs before her own, who played with me, sang with me and loved me unconditionally. I am from the strength and determination of a large family, giving me the wisdom that who I am, what I am is more than adequate.