I came across this today on a couple of other blogs
Last Mom on Earth
and decided to put it out there for you to read.
I am from fields with cows and pigs in pens, from Eight O'Clock coffee and SkinSoSoft and small country churches.
I am from the fields that have become subdivisions and malls, Walker Hill as it was once unofficially known, with large yards that had to be mowed every week and hayfields where we baled hay to get the cows through the winter, from gardens that smelled like Mother Earth herself when we plowed them for spring planting, the whole property ringed by honeysuckle vines that smelled so sweet under the hot Georgia sun, from blackberry bushes that magically became the most delicious cobbler when Grandmother got her hands on the berrys.
I am from the magnolia blossoms with their waxy leaves and velvety petals and persimmon trees with their fruits lying on the ground all soft and over-ripe.
I am from Sunday dinners and family softball games after church and large chests and small butts, from Demetra and Jimmy and Aunt Mary (pronounced Mayree).
I am from the faith that God will provide and honesty that doesn't speak in shades of grey and working hard for what we have.
From "your face will get stuck like that" and "you can do anything you set your mind to" (mom) and "can't never did do nothing and never will" (dad).
I am from southern Baptists who now just identify as Christians, where all people deserve to be treated with dignity and respect, where "it is what it is" and we soldier on no matter what "it" may be, from a place that recognizes we humans are powerless and that only something greater empowers us. I'm from full immersion baptism yet believe that true baptism comes when we are "tried by fire" in our everyday lives and you better be careful what you pray for because you just might get it. I'm from an angry and vengeful god who is better left behind because he is sending us all to hell.
I'm from somewhere in Atlanta Georgia and adopted by the only mom and dad I've ever known, good humble people on both sides, rural families, a firefighter dad and a full time mom, with lots of aunts and uncles and cousins with some Native blood in there somewhere;
I'm from black-eyed-peas&cornbread and biscuits and fried chicken.
From the father who caught the baby that was falling out of a stranger's grocery cart in the produce aisle, the mother who stuck out her tongue when she was deep in concentration and the Poppa who chased down Willie the runaway donkey to save me and my cousin off its back.
I am from a closet full of photo albums in my mother's guest bedroom, uniform brass from Fulton County Fire Department in my jewelry box, mom's birthstone and wedding band in the same jewelry box, none of it worth much money (not on a fireman's salary) but priceless just the same because they are from a marriage that is no more because the firefighter himself is no more.
To see where I got inspired to tell you "where I'm from", follow these links:
Last Mom on Earth