Where I'm From
I am from Drive-ins and Dairy Queens, from Mom and Pop grocers and feed stores that smell of leather and molasses.
I am from the hills and hollows, from the deep greens and the rich browns of lush forests, and fields of freshly plowed earth.
I am from the Purple Coneflower, wild beautiful healer. From the Oak, whose limbs have sheltered generations before me.
I am from Sunday Dinner and family gathered, laughing. From my grandfather, Emmett, who lived to be 99 and taught me much of what I know. And from my great grandmother, Lilly, who rarely spoke but let me brush her long white hair.
I am from travellers and day dreamers, from artists and story tellers. From Irish rogues and Italian Witches.
I am from a belief in that which is greater than we. A respect of Nature and a love for all things. From the breath of God and the womb of the Earth herself.
I'm from the Ozark Mountains, from the South, from the ocean and the swamp. I am from Springfield and Romania, from so many places I've forgotten their names. I am from Tortillas and beans n rice.
I am from the man who met Pretty Boy Floyd and Indian Joe in a bar, asked what they were looking at and lived to tell about it. From the man who ran moonshine up and down these very hills over 80 years ago. From the man who talked to God.
I am from happy times and great sorrow, from intelligence and adventure, from loneliness and a sisters bond that cannot be broken. I am from more than I could ever hope for or dream of, and I can't imagine being from anywhere else.