Five Minute Friday: Roots

I am finding a lot of therapeutic benefits in writing these days. It's barely not even winter, and I already feel so cooped up, with very little motivation to leave my house.


I've decided to start linking up with Lisa-Jo Baker on "Five-Minute Friday" from time to time. She gives me a prompt and I write for five minutes on said prompt {whatever my heart desires}.

This week? Roots.

It may be said that I am a Southerner. No, it must be said. And more than a Southerner, I am a Georgian. Go ahead, make a joke, and I will field them. No, I am not married to my cousin [though my husband might have thought I was dating my cousin when we first met. Weird. Ask Josh for the story; I've only got five minutes... and maybe ADD.] I did not grow up on a farm (nothing wrong with that), and I'm not a member (nor do I know any) of the KKK. I am a Georgian. As the election approaches and people talk about exercising their right to vote, I feel more Georgian than I do American. Always have. Always will. But now I live in Michigan. A traitor? Leaving home. Leaving comfort, family, summer. Sigh. Yes, I left. Yes, I cringe when people who've known me for forever tell me that I'm losing my accent or people who I've just met say that I don't have much of one. I cringe and then turn on the charm (and my best South Georgia accent ... ask my husband). I turn it on because I want it to be known, trusted, accepted by all that Georgia is where I'm from. And though I may not live there, Georgia is where I belong.

In sweet, loving memory of one of my favorite Georgians to ever live, Pa.