I am from yellow cornbread, from Cox's creamed honey and banana moon pies.
I am from houses, both southern and yankee, notes echoing through the halls.
I am from the dandelions, arrowheads, limestone and granite.
I am from the one present on Christmas Eve and perfect public faces, from Worthington Stoddard Romney and Stone.
I am from sharp tongues and hateful hands, from fear and too few I love yous.
I am from pioneers and faith. Strength and hope. Searching, praying, believing.
I am from Columbia and England, funfetti cupcakes and cast iron skillets.
From Miles Romney who traveled across waters on faith and built circular staircases in temples, from Gammy Lou with crimson lips who let me sit and watch her paint, and from Momma Ellen who took me dress shopping and hid boxes of jewelry under her bed.
I am from leather bound photo albums, letters home from war, and church archives. I am but a moment in time.