Where I Am From

I am from the little brick house near-by the creek, from Nestlé’s Quick, Duke’s Mayonnaise, Krispy Kreme Doughnuts, homemade biscuits and Mama’s snow cream.


I am from the antique house that still sits behind the mortuary. The house filled with big rooms, tall ceilings and 100 years of ghosts both good and bad.


From the dogwood, the red hot poker, the pyracantha, honey suckle and the pecan tree.


I am from wassail at Christmas, celebrating adoption with anniversaries and blessing the food before it is eaten. From the Hargrove’s sense of family, the Moran’s gentle and loving spirit, the Willett’s strong work ethic and the Dixon’s temper sprinkled with a little bit of crazy.


I am from the reader and the extrovert.


From don’t sweat the small stuff and roll with the punches and from the magic words are these: excuse me, thank you and please.


I am from love the least of these, saved by grace, once saved always saved and do unto others as you would have them do unto you.


I am from the biology of Ireland, Carolina mountains and beaches and Georgia peaches.


I am from grits, homemade ice cream and watermelon.


I am from Boop Boop Dit-tem Dat-tem What-tem Shu, Skin-a-ma Rinky Dinky Dink, The Old Rugged Cross and Pass It On.


From falling in the creek, staying out past dark to play in the snow and coming home when I hear Mama and Daddy whistle. I am from barefoot at church, walking to school, a field of daffodils and dirt clod fights. I am from sweet milk gravy and toast, only one phone in the house and sleeping in unheated bedrooms.


I am from preachers, teachers, veterans and farmers. From Granddaddy’s barn, Bubber’s kitchen, Mamaw’s sleeping porch and Nan’s store. I am from notebook after notebook of family genealogy, ribbon tied letters and old leather photo albums.


I am from those who came before, those who came along with me and those who have their roots in me.


Just sayin'..............