I am from a cast iron skillet; from Clabber Girl baking powder and red-eye gravy.
I am from a kitchen with a fieldstone fireplace; a rocking chair with a wide, black bottom; an uncomfortable wooden church pew and singing in the kitchen – banging on the pots and pans.
I am from the Magnolia grandiflora and Cornus florida – the Southern Magnolia and the Flowering Dogwood.
I am from chili on Christmas Eve and doll cakes on birthdays. I’m from Lily and Marian – Cooks, Pikes, Buchanans and Curtis’.
I am from hotly held and defended opinions and from uncomfortable silences, especially when we hurt.
I am from dog graves for pitcher’s mounds and spaceship trees to climb.
I am from fire and brimstone Southern Baptists, the sweet by and by, and the church in the valley by the wildwood.
I am from bluegrass, burgoo and Derby Pie.
I am from the captain of the football team and the homecoming queen. The silence is puzzling.
I am from those who know how to work hard, how to laugh loudly, how to drink Red Pop over ice cream. I am from the well read and the even more curious.
I am from all of these things and they are from me.
Written from this template.