I never considered myself
Being a country girl bore a connotation
of being uneducated.
Country girls never get out of the little town they grew up in.
They’re content in dead-end jobs.
Or no job.
They spend too much time dreaming of
boys and not enough dreaming about
Then I grew up,
got myself an education.
I learned things.
I moved out of that little community.
I had adventures.
And all I want is to go back and watch the thunderstorms with my Daddy from our porch swing under the peach tree.
I thought country meant
huntin’ and cigarettes.
Girls with too much eyeliner and not enough clothing.
Boys who dipped and hated all forms of feminism.
But it’s not.
It’s an acknowledgement of our insignificance.
It’s an inability to deal with pretentiousness.
It’s a dream of self-sufficiency.
Country is not afraid of change, but it can’t stand progress for progress’ sake.
And that’s why I’m proud
of our little cedar-sided cabin on a dirt road
of my summers spent barefoot on the moss
of learning the constellations and planets without worry of light pollution
of our Christmas trees straight out of both Mr. Shackleford’s farm and a Peanuts cartoon.
And that’s why I now call myself country.