I Am From

I am from the hills, from boredom, and Redneck America.
I am from the crooked curves of Salt Creek, a road less traveled.
I am from the vegetable garden, the Marigolds.
I am from hunting, fishing, and lazy Sundays, from Allen and Teresa and my miracle of a baby sister, Melissa (She came on the backs of two miscarriages due to contaminated well water.).
I am from the poor and the diligent.
From the local post office I tried to save at age eleven, and the graves our hogs dug up.
I am from a mother who tried to be Christian, and a father who never breathed word of religion.
I'm from Wakefield, where deer burgers and jerky are tradition.
From the stay-at-home-mom who used to be so dedicated and loving, the father who I barely remember sober, and the grandparents who've become angry since I grew up and can't visit as often.
I am from memories I never want to let go, but, yet, am sometimes afraid to go near.