I’ve had the most insane few weeks with a lot of life changes. Once the dust settles I will update. In the meantime, I’ll share this post from Southern Living that really speaks to me.
I’ve tried to move away from the South many times. I attended college in the Midwest, graduate school in the Northeast. My first real job was in Boulder, Colorado, a place as un-Southern as any I’d visited, what with all the earnestness and dietary fat avoidance.
Back when I was 12, the age my youngest daughter is now, I’d flatten myself on the baked concrete of the sidewalk outside our Florida house, let the heat soak up through my clothes, and dream of places far away where the air was cool and thin, and I didn’t have to check my shoes for palmetto bugs before I slipped them on.
By my late teens, I was done with Coca-Cola cakes and wearing tights to church and having to “be sweet,” lest my mother gasp, shake her head, and roll her eyes to the heavens as if to ask…
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