I am from pan-fried cornbread, fried bologna sandwiches after church, and spitting watermelon seeds off the back of Pawpaw’s red pick-up. I’m from Cheerwine (if you pronounced it right you’ve said it wrong) and humidity so thick it’ll make you humble.
I’m from stoic military housing and the wild forest behind Mawmaw’s. I’m from the taste of the ocean breeze and the land of the rising sun. I’m from the branches of dogwoods, the bustling blooms of azaleas, and the delicate sakura.
I am from the halls of Montezuma and the shores of Tripoli. I’m from the caretakers of the Lost Colony–the one’s who drove the KKK straight out of town. I’m from the Missouri Pugh’s and Dudley’s, pioneers who predecess America.
I am from honor, courage, and commitment. I’m from “get ‘er done” and “bless your heart.” I’m from “sign your name like you mean it” and “can’t never could do anything.” I’m from family secrets and dark journals.
I am from the sweet by and by and chariots swinging low. I’m from a one-room church and pews as old as revolution.
I’m from PCSing and TLF’s. I’m from wild, weather forecasting hair and beef stroganoff for dinner. I’m from cookie dough straight out of the bowl and fireflies at night. I’m from Forced Family Entertainment and a right-hand drive.
I am from lost and now found, from chained to set free, from harassed and helpless to whole and loved.
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I love seeing the Where I’m From posts that sprout up every now and then. Right now, SheLoves Magazine is hosting a Where I’m From synchroblog. Some start with this template if you need a jumping point.
So where are you from?