I'm from the middle of nowhere just south of town.
From divorce, tears, and dancing in the rain.
A Labrador, half my size when we brought him home,
Never less than three cats.
I'm from fields and fields of endless planters.
Where fall smelt like tobacco and summer meant grandma's garden.
Where I lay in blanket of grass and watch the clouds go by,
And dance barefoot in mama's yard.
I'm from mixed city folk and southern style.
His slight accent and blue eyes,
Her artistic talent from a house with four daughters,
A city girl and man who's toiled in tobacco.
"If you were a boy," he told me, "you'd be out there too."
Soccer games under starry skies.
Dad stands in a cloud of smoke,
Building me up and chopping me down in the same phrase.
I get a hug from mom when I get home,
My parents exchange small talk, I watch dad walk out the door.
We were a family a four before my parents split.
My sister felt the impact a little harder than I did.
I still have her, no matter which home I'm in,
And she's still the boss, or so she sometimes says.
I'm Herbert Jr., so my uncle says.
I have his eyebrows, his blood type,
And even the same horoscope sign.
I take after my grandpa; I'm more like my dad's kin.
I'm from loud nights in my room with my thoughts.
Rock or Christian music, it all depends.
You'll hear the sounds of typing as my fingers hit the keys.
You can read my frantic thoughts allowed and try to find some sense.
I've spent a lot of my time in the church just off the highway.
A little brick building that exchanged pastors for most of my childhood.
Five year old me; all dressed up for church with my mom and sister.
While my dad sits on the couch with football and the Sunday paper.
I'm from the middle of almost nowhere.
I've always been country girl at heart.
No matter where my life will take me,
This little patch of heaven is home in my heart.