I am from handmaid quilts, White Lily flour and sweet tea.
I am from the wood sided house on the gravel paved road, the shade of pine trees and the sweet smell of honeysuckle in late Spring.
I am from pink and white azaleas, sandy soil and cotton fields, dogwood trees, magnolias and pine straw.
I am from Sunday dinners and Scottish, French, and British stock, from Rhoney and Dickinson, Hall and Brown.
I am from wood mills, teachers, newspapers and merchants.
From oral histories, told at the knee of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends and family recipes prepared with no written instructions or measuring.
I am from Baptists and lacy Sunday socks, black patent dress shoes for winter and white for summer. Slips with crinoline to make a dress twirl.
I'm from the Southern U.S., from hard work and honesty, lacy fried cornbread and cheese grits.
From the banks of Upper Lotts Creek to the rolling hills of west Georgia, from farms and homemade biscuits to ice delivery trucks and planer mills.
I am from boxes filled with snapshots of camping trips, family reunions, birthday parties and pets.