Road Maps

I am from turn dial TVs

Black and white, antenna tuners

My imagination painted five channels

In Technicolor


I am from the family's trees

Tangled and strong

Mimosas, live oaks, and long-needle pines

Arms welcoming an untamed dreamer


I am from Sunday dinners at granny's

Crisco, Mazola, real churned butter

Sweet potato pies and chocolate cakes

And Jello, shaped with copper molds


I am from tree swings, bike rides,

And long, country walks

Lazy afternoon naps

Nestled in fresh cut grass


I am from the salt of the earth

Tanned necks, calloused hands

Coated with red clay dirt and axle grease

Scrubbed clean for Sunday service


I am from "now I lay me down to sleep"

Repentance and revivals

One way tickets to salvation

Followed by potluck dinners


I am from unsmiling faces

Hanging on dark paneled walls

Their furrowed brows and deep lines

Road maps charting a history of struggle


Outlines for who I am

And for all that I will be.

The End

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