I am from bare feet, from fresh sheets and mason jars.
I am from the treadle sewing machine, wood floors, tire swing, and railroad tracks.
I am from the plum tree, spider lilies, the honey suckles and fishing ponds.
I am from back yard fires and pocket knives, from Milam and Grimes; Polizo and Hendrick.
I am from over communication, compulsive cleaning and a love of music.
From mosquito bites, no shoes in the house and glass coke bottles.
I am from Baptist, Pentecostal, Catholic and “believe what you want.”
I am from Natchez and lightning bugs, drop biscuits, tomato gravy, and vegetable soup.
From the red wagon, barbwire fences, slip and slide, and sacks of pecans.
I am from the family album, rusted swing set, Bambie’s tea cups and summers in Greenville.
From cleaning cast iron skillets and picking my own switches.
I am from the sweet olive tree and magnolia leaves.
From questioning and learning to trust.
I am from my father’s confidence and the face of my mother.
