Where I'm From

I Am From a House in the Mountains

By Jillian Grimsley

I am from a house in the mountains

Where leaves never stay the same color long,

Sweet tea is always in the fridge,

And front porches are rarely empty.

I am from a house that was the picture of Southern hospitality,

Where black shutters batted like Scarlett O’Hara’s eyelashes,

Where lush green hanging ferns sheltered the fragile lives of baby birds

Where the white wicker porch swing rocked in time

With the lazy rhythm of watermelon afternoons.

I am from a homemade house

Dinner’s on the table at 6:00 house

It’s not a dinner unless you have three side items house

Fresh corn and green beans and hashbrown casserole house

Leave room for a piece of cream cheese pound cake house

A house my mom filled as full of food as she did with love.

I am from a house full of strong women

A home where the girls outnumbered my dad four to one –

Five to one if you count Lucy the yellow lab

Katie loved her Barbies, Erin loved her stuffed bear in the pink pajamas

I loved to fix their hair, paint their nails, boss them around

and pretend I was their mommy.

I am from a house where the empowered sounds

Of the Dixie Chicks and Shania Twain taught me that I have a voice

Where choppy chords from my first Fender guitar took shape

At first behind my closed bedroom door

Then a requirement at every family gathering and holiday.

I am from a house that watched me learn

All about American History and Calculus and The Count of Monte Cristo

How to serve a volleyball over the net in the backyard

To never wait by the phone for a boy to call

To put your own plate in the dishwasher after dinner.

I am from a house that included held hands and blessings before meals

Nighttime prayers, Bible verses on the dashboard of the car

An I know the plans I have for you declaring kind of home

A foundation that I’ve built my life upon.