I just moved in to a beautiful three story town house in downtown Atlanta with my husband.  I’ve never lived in the city before.  In fact, I grew up on Rural Route 1–as country as it comes.  And here begins some cataloging of the past, how it has created my present, and what it says about the future….and we start…

I grew up in home made clothes and hand me downs, wishing for store bought clothes. I rode a three wheeler through the fields to gather eggs on my cousin’s chicken farm.  I spent my Saturdays learning to sew, cook, bake, can, and garden, in hopes that if we got our work done, we might be able to float on an old inner tube at the local Ike Lake.  In high school I sewed a matching hair scrunchi for nearly every outfit I owned, sewed my own dresses for both proms, and still carried my lunch in a hard plastic lunch box with “Rocke” on the lid in sharpie.  I learned to cook for a full crew of hungry boys, pressure washed and painted the chicken house in the summer time, and won a purple ribbon at the state fair for my tea ring coffee cake.  I appreciated the Grand Ol Opry on Saturday nights with my dad and was a fan of Neal Diamond and Tammy Wynette when it wasn’t cool, even among us rural folk.  I learned how to live on little, refrain from asking for things that were frivolous, and thrived in a DIY, organic world long before it was trendy.

My parents believed in hard work, family, and God.  We ate in the summer and canned for the winter from our enormous garden, butchered chickens in July and froze enough for the year, and bought only what we had to.  “Blest Be the Tie” and “Just Another Walk With Thee” were melodies mastered at a young age and we understood the importance of Sunday in church.  My family wasn’t and still isn’t refined; they don’t say “tortilla” or “parmesan” correctly and wear clothes patched or redesigned from the 70s and 80s.  They are simple, country, religious people—the best you might ever be lucky enough to meet.

I’m sitting on a black leather sofa in downtown Atlanta, looking out at the cobble stone town square and bocce ball court, sipping a cocktail and crocheting a blanket for my best friend’s baby.  I’m listening to folk music and am reminded of where I come from, regardless of my now urban environment and store bought things.