Heavy night air enveloped me as I stepped through Mamaw’s creaky screen door, barefoot, onto the cool, damp sidewalk; stretching my pale city child arms toward an enormous Kentucky moon. Spring frogs sang their undulating romance song from somewhere near. Living mountains met clay, pulsating in collected rainwater pools. Dogs barked, cicadas hummed, all perfectly orchestrated.
This was home, where acceptance and love were givens; a place that grabbed your heartstrings, pulling forcefully, making contented life elsewhere impossible.
Why then, do we often consider our birthplace burdensome to visit? Is it fear of happiness? Perhaps we’ll never know these answers!
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