Rootedness
I wasn't born at home like my mother's cousins, so I can't say like some of them can that I've lived all my life within a stone's throw of where I was born. (In case you can't tell, being able to say that is a matter of pride. Will we one day look at these home-rooted people with the admiration the Victorians held for explorers?) I was born 30 miles away, in a hospital that isn't there anymore. My family's farm is still there though, like it has been for the 150 years my family has lived there, one generation rolling into place after the next, while the previous rolls into the graveyard about a mile down the road, with no fuss and no fluster. This is how it is.
We hold the land and the land holds us.
No comments:
Post a Comment