As I sit and look in the mirror I look and see white. I see a white face followed by two blue eyes that appear and a round crooked nose placed on my face. My lips don’t quite match as a bottom has a little plump and my top is flat. I see the blonde fine hair trying to peak threw where once they flourished, covered now by a faded red. Two small dimples appear as I begin to smile. My mother and father can both be found in my face.
I began to stare intently at the mirror now. Soon my face fades and I see the farm, I hear the cows mooing, the rosters crowing, and hear the old loud tom cat as he wakes to start his day. Corn can be seen on all sides of my house and if you’re lucky you’ll see a white tail deer run across. The tractors can be seen going all threw the summer’s night harvesting the corn. I also catch that cold breeze the blows on a late winter’s night, stinging your nose and feet.
The mirror begins to show my family. I see my mom down at the barn helping with the animals. My dad out back, teaching me how to throw a softball. And I can see my uncle on the big John Deere tractor tilling the field. I see my sister cleaning the house, constantly cleaning. My brothers constantly playing their games, always kicking me out. I see my family all together on a big Reed family Christmas. Eating till our stomach burst.
I hear the sweet sound of country music and the tapping of the wooden soles of cowboy’s boots. I feel the wind upon my face and feel the sun against my back. I remember the sweet taste of corn on my taste buds and the fresh cold feeling as milk hits my tongue. I smell the fresh bread rising in the grandmother kitchen and the taste of her famous eggs. I remember my siblings and I sneaking into my grandfathers papa chips. This crunchy cheesy goodness was also known as Doritos. I remember picking tomatoes in my mother’s garden and taking that big juicy bite.
I began to look strongly in the mirror and began seeing the German and Irish decent, followed by a hint of Native American snuck it. The tan begins to come out in my skin during the warm months. The blonde hair blue eyes show the German from my grandmother. I also see the deep western roots that have been instilled in my family for generations and generations. This is who I am.
Jessica,
ReplyDeleteThis post brought back memories of my childhood. I too have had southern/western roots brought to my home life here in Indiana. My grandmother and step-grandfather both grew up in Arkansas and I was frequently exposed to fried catfish, cornbread, jambalaya, chicken and dumplings, and many other tasty treats. There's something about the western, close-family, country-like atmosphere of a home. Grant it that my grandparents only brought this to me as my actual home life didn't resemble this at all, I am still grateful for them exposing me to their way of life.
Also, I identify with you and your siblings fishing your way through your grandfather's Doritos. Likewise, my step-grandfather also had Little Debbie snacks as his main splurge. Strangely enough, he had me convinced that an elf named Little Debbie used to drop them off at the house every week--how naive I was!
Finally, I'd like to associate myself to the farm atmosphere of your house. My step-grandfather purchased 12 acres of land and he would grow numerous things: ocra, zuccini, watermelon, potatoes, corn, green peppers... just typing about this is making my mouth water. And yet you still live on a farm like this. Do you enjoy it? Do you feel the farm life has a strange sense of bringing everyone together? Would you trade the life you have now for a life in the city?
Jessica, it was fun to learn that you grew up on a farm. Thanks for sharing all of those vivid memories of nature, family foods, animals, tractors, gardening, and country music. Sounds like it was a great place to be a kid. It's interesting that Zachary, DB and you all have a touch of Native American ancestry in the mix of your family heritage. Amazing how much diversity is part of each one of us.
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