Where Y’all From?

Today’s post is inspired from a poem titled Where I’m From by George Ella Lyon, and I first saw it here {although it originates here}. While there is an official writing template for creating a Where I’m From poem, I didn’t follow it. I’m a wild and crazy rule breaker that way.

When writing about my roots, I become more and more aware of God’s hand on my life weaving my story with His. It is good, cathartic fun! So here it goes…

I’m from where the blacktop ends and the gravel road begins; where directional landmarks are silos instead of street signs.

I’m from the land of wide-open skies, rolling prairies, and crowded woods; the perfect trio for a trio of sisters {and a posse of cousins} to spend hours re-creating scenes as the Ingalls girls, the von Trapp family, Anne Shirley and Diana, or Madeline Main and Constance Hazzard.

I’m from the land of sky high oaks, meandering creeks, and snakes that move through both; land dotted with dragon flies and butterflies and “shoo fly, don’t bother me” as the wind most definitely comes sweeping down the plains.

I’m from where winter doesn’t overstay its welcome as it begs us to savor crackling wood burning in the stove and electric blankets under Holly Hobby bedspreads.

I’m from where summer hangs heavy and wet and smells of chlorine, sunscreen, wild irises and often-cut grass; where we don’t mind {not one bit!} taking the farthest spot in the Walmart parking lot if it means the car is in the still-105-degrees shade.

I’m from a Mama who created a homecooked meal every. single. night. and a Daddy who always had time for one more bedtime story; a home with two little sisters who put up with big sister’s bossin’.

I’m from a place where fall Fridays mean watching football games under blankets with hot, watered down cocoa.

I’m from a family full of little girls that Grandmas loved on somethin’ fierce by baking endless treats, buying twirly Easter dresses, and passing on a passionate love affair with tea; where girls became Olympic figure skaters by sliding on hard floors in socks and slips.

I’m from singing out of a liquid filled, rolly top deodorant bottle to Barbara Mandrell, the Judds, Sylvia, and Amy Grant.

I’m from dressy Sunday mornings at church with classic comfort hymns followed by classic comfort food at Furr’s cafeteria. I’m from a legacy of faith that sticks to our bones like Sunday roast and potatoes.

I’m from a place where you wave or say hello when passing others in the car or on foot. Because while many states have their share of friendly folks , Oklahomans know they hold more than their fair share.

So, where are YOU from? Feel free to visit other trips down memory lane at Glynnis’ place or write about your own! If you do, let me know so I can visit and learn more about you!