Writing About My Childhood Part 2

Last week I posted that I was having trouble writing about both the good and bad of my childhood. I think I came up with a solution. While dealing with small-town mentalities and judgmental people was always difficult, I can’t deny how beautiful it is where I grew up. That’s what I decided to express.


Beautiful Country


I miss the nights
when lightning bugs speckled the endless horizon
and my eyes bathed in the indigo sky.

My favorite color has always been
newly sprouted winter wheat —
an affirmation of new beginnings.

I loved waking up after a snowstorm
blinding white
and alone in the silence of the barren landscape.

From the delicate irises of spring
to the golden blazes of September
every bug in Henry County fluttered its way into our little house.

Nights of thunder and wind
made my heart pound to pieces
and spark a fascination with the dangers of the heartland.

Growing up in the country
was a crimson struggle of whits and tears
but I will always cherish the beauty of my childhood home.


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