Friday, May 12, 2023

Home, Unmourned

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

My words are:

many ~ miracles ~ mayonnaise ~ monetary ~ munching ~ Michigan

It was submitted by:


I grew up thinking the same way a lot of weird, gay kids do that grow up in rural areas especially the South--that all my problems were about where I was not that I was having issues thar people the world over even in large cities have. I thought running away and starting over would be the ticket. That everything could just be so different if I wasn't here.

I think it took a lot longer to appreciate where I am than some because of the stigma of the south but I finally got to this part. The love for the place I've called home my entire life has only grown exponentially since I realized most of my problems would be the same anywhere else I live but at least here I have a little peace and quiet and very few worries about other people.

I think the naivety that comes with youth no matter how traumatic it was always tends to paint the grass greener somewhere else. We can visually see people in our age group all over the world now and still our problems get boiled down to location, location, location. People cheat everywhere. The pay is miserable everywhere. Opportunity sucks kind of everywhere because there may not be many jobs in the sticks but there are also fewer folks competing for them. Monetary troubles exist everywhere...even when the pay is better so is the cost of living. That's not to say a change of scenery can't be good for some folks, but I think there's an understanding that can only come with age about how little location can actually be blamed for.

I mean, could I move to Michigan? Sure. But why would I? I can't even get the right mayonnaise there. I could move to California but where in that state do I get to watch love bugs landing in Spanish moss on 100 year old live oaks?

Why would I move somewhere with at least as many problems (minus some of the gerrymandering) when I could just stay here with so much culture and diversity and amazing food? Why go have some weird regional chip in Nevada when I could be in a place that feels like home munching on salt and vinegar boiled peanuts?

Life is full of tiny miracles, and I think one of mine is coming to the realization that the South is home. It's home in a way nowhere else could even begin to touch. It's beautiful in a way nothing else could be for me. It's comforting and mysterious and did I mention the food? Greens and BBQ and grits and black eye peas and cornbread and peach cobbler and sweet tea? The diversity? The south has more of that than any other region. We're gayer than any other region. And maybe we fight harder than any others to be better even while the rest of the country puts so much of this country's issues at our feet alone. We laugh along with the jokes about deserving to die in hurricanes and go back to work while everyone else pretends racism is an us problem. I love that I can look around me and see people who've grown into a similar love for their home and our accents and our ways and fight like hell to prove it's beauty to everyone. It's worth it.

No comments:

Post a Comment