Where I'm From

“Where I’m From”
I am from
an incubator that withheld me for 3 solid months.
A Kitchenaid mixer, passed down for three generations.
And from Gold Medal Flour, Grandmaw Zoie swore by it.

I’m from
Catfish Corner with no stop lights, better known as Claremont.

I am from
snapdragons and dogwood trees that grow in my MeMe’s yard.
Every spring, their delicate smells greet me.

I’m from
family gatherings, covered dish dinners, and freckles.
I am from home-grown food.

I am from Boxcar and Poss.
My two great-grandpaws.
Both famous in my hometown.

I’m from
Sunday afternoon naps and childhood stories.

I am from
“ask questions” and “be grateful.”

I’m from
reading every night before going to bed.

I am from
Lutheranism, Catechism,
and being the north STAR in Christmas plays.

I’m from
Forsyth Hospital, deviled eggs, and green beans.
And from pictures of deceased family in their caskets.

I’m from
the Bayou, or at least I am told that.
Mom tells me I’m part “cajun coon-ass.”

I am from
the man who had to quit third grade to raise his brothers.
He couldn’t read, but worked the farm like no other.

I am from
Boxcar’s infamous garden. Complete with scarecrow.

I’m from Ruby’s bell table.