Just A Country Girl At Heart

 

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When I was little my daddy drove a blue pick up truck.  I was a city girl.  So when we ran to get gas one morning (I was maybe 4 or 5) I told him I hoped no one saw us or "they might think we're from the country."  True story. 

I grew up on country music.  As a teen I moved into pop and hip hop.  I still can listen to good hip hop, the kind that is more like raw poetry, til the cows come home.  But I taught G to love country music.  To appreciate our roots. 

I have always turned to music when I need to work through something.  It's just been my way.  When I'm sad I will sit up for hours singing music, sometimes to G (he likes to sit and listen to me sing, God bless him), but sometimes like now, just to the universe. 

And it's usually country.  "Life's like a novel with the end ripped out."  Touche Rascal Flatts.  I feel my roots deep in country music, and while some is a bit of a cliche, you can't top it for true variety of story and emotion. 

So right now?  It's nearly 3 a.m. and I am singing my heart out.  Pouring it into songs because finding my own sadness is a bit too overwhelming right now.  I know I'll get there, but I'm not ready to confront it yet.  Instead I'm choosing to sing at night, and find beauty during the day. 

So I feel like taking a drive up in northern MD, to where our CSA's farm grows fields of delicious local food.  Where dirt roads can be explored.  Where I can walk through tall grasses and breathe in the blue skies.  I don't know if it's how I grew up, playing outside, or more my dna, but I always feel best in the wide open, with my hands in dirt.  And county music blaring in the sunshine.