Where I’m from

Where I’m From

Kaela Bostic

 

I’m from station wagons, Waffle house, sweet tea and Coke,
the double wide on red Georgia clay and the wooden porch with the nail.
I’m from the Georgia pine and gravel roads,
From apple and pear trees the held me, camp outs in the front yard and lose of blood in the back.

I’m from orange cinnamon rolls in the morning and tuna casserole at night.
From Uncle Davey and Mikey, Aunt Jan and Debbie- keepers of the Little Debbies and late night secrets. The debates of Honda over Harley, and the vacuum cleaner song.
I’m from Max and Sam sneaking the turkey, rolls rising on the cupboards, and Christmas music after Thanksgiving.

I’m from a half finished tree house and sleds for the pine straw.
I’m from prayers at Thanksgiving and Sunday morning pews that hurt my behind.
I’m from Dr. Seuss and Curious George, playing hooky to peek at presents,
I’m from sunflower patches, and yellow jacket battles,
Georgia football and long stormy nights.

I’m from rolling in the dirt with Tigger and running through the sprinkler with Raccoon.
I’m from honey suckle and flash light tag, fishing in the moonlight,
Miss Charlie and the death of bunnies.
I’m from bunk beds we fell off and forts made from the couch.

I’m from photo albums torn apart (sorry mom I thought I could make you something nice) and plastic crates falling to pieces. I’m from black and whites and fading photos, report cards and certificates, and love that was never spoken.

 

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