I’m not weird, I’m just Southern

I am a little slow.  I honestly didn’t realize that living in Doraville Georgia from age 2 until 10 had a profound impact on how I am in the world.

 I have felt like a weirdo for the past 30 years.  I figured I had some strange gene mutation that led me to talk to people in elevators, flirt without wanting it to go anywhere and send thank you cards with insatiable urge. 

This month I visited my childhood home on Shady Oak Drive in Atlanta Georgia.  I lived there until I was 10.  The driveway was a lot steeper when I rollerskated down it – I swear.  I walked to the spot in the side yard where my family changed forever when my brother left this earth.   It was an emotional experience and so incredible. 

I walked to my elementary school.  It really was a mile.  The flag pole was half-massed, as I remembered it when Sean died, for some other side reason that day.  The front doors were closed like they were the day I punched the 7th grader (I was in 3rd grade) in the stomach for bullying me.    I stood at the top of the 7-story high hill above the blacktop that had shrunk to a 9-foot slope.

Walking around Georgia for a couple hours and I realized something.  I am not weird at all – I am just Southern. 

I am just SOuthern!!!

The warmth and friendliness of everyone I met reminded me … of…. me.

The first 10-years made the girl.   I must remember this when raising my little boy…..

 

 

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