Jumping on the bandwagon

Where I'm from

I am from iron skillets black from years of use, from glass bottled Coca-Cola and Magnolias blooming sweet and thick.

I am from a house with a window fan with chicken frying in the kitchen and a dish towel calendar hanging on the wall and a dirt swept path from the backdoor.

I am from flower-covered Azaleas, tall Southern Pines, and old Hydrangeas dug up and moved from one house to the other.

I am from Easter Egg Trees and big rabbit cakes and stoic, hard-working women who never complain, from Esther and Uncle Earl and Aunt Ora laughing even though it wasn't proper. I'm from yes ma'am and yes, sir and not touching the shot gun behind the door because Daddy said not to and not because the gun might hurt you.

I am from big family Sunday dinners, tending to cemetery plots, stepping up to help out family without ever being asked, and knowing that nothing ... nothing can ever mean more than family.

From the man who could wish away your warts if you just believed and growing a watermelon in your stomach from the seed you swallowed.

I am from every church in town: Catholic, Baptist, Pentecostal Holiness, and occasionally Methodist. And knowing that God didn't care how you worshipped or where.

I'm from the Olde South, from the place the family has just always been. From grits with salt and butter. From fried bologna and hot boiled peanuts.

From a Southern Matriarch grandmother who claimed “I’ve whipped all my grandchildren.” and a father who taught me to love “The Man in Black”, I’m from folks who pick up stray animals and give them a proper home.

I am from ‘forgetting’ the bad times, embellishing the good times, and knowing that I whole slew of people have my back if I need them. I’m from knowing that no matter what I do…no matter how bad or good…I will always be loved.