I am from country roads, Crisco and my grandfather’s violin. From the shadow on the wall. The smell of wood and rain. Grape crape myrtles, rhododendrons and muddy water.
I am from Sunday afternoons and farmers. From Sullie, Virgie and Boo. The storytellers and the hand wavers. The hush and the holler.
I am from tent arbors and cathedrals. ‘Down by the river’ and myrrh.
From Rock, West Virginia. Mountaineers and Miners. Dumplings and beans.
I am from Pa – who saw the mountain fall. From my brother – and a broken neck.
I am from my grandmother’s wardrobe. A book of gold and red. Of were and is and….