I am from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia,

from red clay and cold mountain springs.

I am steadfast like oaks, resilient like maples,

persistent like pines, tenacious like willows.

I am from the Crowes and the Thomases,

honest, hardworking, pinched by poverty.

I am the sixth child of Tom and Mary Edith,

from the hammer, saw and nails of a carpenter,

from the wringer washer, rolling pin, and rake.

I am from beans, and more beans,

baked, fried, and mashed potatoes,

homemade biscuits, lard, and Kool-Aid.

I am from the Almighty Car, country music,

Vacation Bible School, Jesus Loves Me,

guitar playing and singing harmony.

I am from a maternal grandfather

who killed a man in self-defense.

I am bathed in April showers,

shoeless in summer’s heat,

shrouded in autumn leaves,

steady on snowy paths.

I am first-generation

college graduate.

I live in suburbia

visit deserts

foreign cities

oceans

yet always home

in the mountains.

I am from

Virginia’s Blue Ridge.