We just returned from a week in the South, a week spent in warmer weather, under sunnier skies, and around historic architecture. It was a week spent with family, watching my niece mother her charming daughter and seeing my brother and sister-in-law grandparent We dined on hush puppies, fish tacos, coleslaw, and low country boil. We walked under dripping Spanish moss. through beautiful town squares, and by intimate wrought-iron enclosed gardens.
There is a different feel to the South--a slower softer cadence to the flow of life. Its history although deep and majestic is also rife with toil and struggle. While exceedingly enjoyable to mosey through other worlds and other lives, I realize I am a truly a Northerner. My blood runs cooler and quicker than my Southern counterparts. The homes and history surrounding me appear less ornate and more pragmatic. Unlike the evergreen live oaks, our oak trees drop their leaves and stand barren against our cold winter skies. Our country is so vast and deep, these individual yet united states. And while the North, the South, the East, and the West all hum different tunes, we still sing one common song of the heritage and story we share as Americans. It is good to see and experience the different pieces of this giant jigsaw that is our country.
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