Where I’m From

I come from pines, small town playgrounds, springs, and sand.

From a Georgia mountain side and a South Carolinian low country river with an Indian name.

From Georgia gold, Colorado gold, and 49ers spread across the Oregon and California trails.

From Confederate privates and a Georgia mill sold before all was lost.

From a Revolutionary, a Loyalist and a Hessian soldier who turned.

From an indentured servant and a colonial Governor.

From a trail into Indian territory and a passel of children stopping to swim in a stream.

I come from a red-headed widow, who fled demanding in-laws, seeking a new beginning in a new state.

From a model A racing from an economic downturn to new land with new crops and opportunity.

I come from a later wave of Jamestown immigrants and a Powhaten squaw who left her people.

From an Old Dominion seventh great grandfather who I share with my husband.

From cattlemen pushing cattle on a trail through recently ceded Indian Territory.

And a family looking for new opportunity in the sandy soils of south Florida.

From three men who stood in line to vote for a new state with a very old name.

From a Ranny, a Geechie, and a Peniopy.

My DNA comes from mostly Ireland, plus Spain and Norway.

From Scotland and a common border with Finland and Russia.

And traces, I recently learned, from North Africa and the Middle East.

I’m a typical American mutt with sandy feet and sunshine on my face.