Where I'm From

 

I am from mountains, from Kraft mac & cheese and home made ice cream.

I am from the tree shaded white house on Grassy Lane.

I am from the spring lilacs, the summer gladiolas, and silent winter snows.

I am from family reunions in the mountains of Preston Country, from Grandpa Leland and Grandma 
Ethel and the Sypolts and Bolyards.

I am from generations of farmers who love the land.

From “You're only as good as your word,” and “Were you born in a barn?”

I am from a church on the side of the road, an old fashioned pastor who preached fire and brimstone, 
love and salvation.

I am from church dinners in his front yard, creek baptisms, and revivals.

I'm from years and years of church camps and friends that you do the craziest things with.

I'm from West Virginia, from the highlands of Preston County, and the “lowlands” of Lewis.

From the way that both of my grandfathers did all they could to own their farms, the long hours they spent on the land, and the hallowed peace of back porch sittin'.

I am from family bibles, and crates of old photos, cracked and split, handled with care.  

I am from corn cakes, and lasagna, and 50 year old recipes.

I am from a Dresden plate quilt, hand pieced and hand stitched, and from crocheted afghans, marked with a grandmother’s love.

From an insatiable thirst for good stories, from Narnia, Gallifrey, Randland, and the power of your imagination.

I’m from sunflowers in Hungary, the people of Nepal, and the city life of Buenos Aires.

I am from a wanderlust that leads me to every corner of the world, and a connection to the land that 
will always bring me back.

I am a West Virginian.