Where I'm From

The Red Dress Club has reminded me that you can't know where you are going until you know where you are from. I am from Saturday morning soccer games and Sunday morning church, from Umbro shorts and Old Navy skirts. I am from the white house on the cul-de-sac with the ever-changing flower beds, babbling creek at the bottom of homemade trails, and friendly golden retriever always escaping her pen. I am from the transplanted willow tree saved from new home construction, the row of crepe-myrtles always blooming down the driveway. I am from evening dinners around the kitchen table and dessert on the couch. I am from the determination to meet perfection, where I know I can dream to reach the stars with hard work and elbow grease; and from a faith that reminds my lifestyle is my greatest witness. From ‘hats on the bed are bad luck’ and ‘bread and butter’ should always be spoken when clasped hands are parted. I am from Methodist services rich with tradition; hymns sung from the heart.  Where family never lacked in pot-lucks and car washes, and a friendly hug and smile was always around the corner. I'm from the home of Vulcan and the Heart of Dixie, sweet tea and barbeque sandwiches. From the times my mom and I tried to make the flowers grow in my own special garden to the afternoons spent helping my dad cut trails in the backyard, and the evenings on the deck eating home grilled burgers and swatting at mosquitoes. I am from photo albums and scrapbook boxes, family traditions that pass through the ages and new ones being formed everyday.  I am from my past and loved sparked from the memories of a sight, a smell or a familiar chord.

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