A few weeks ago I was driving to Tulsa. This drive is somewhat nostalgic for me. I remember driving to Muskogee every few weeks as a kid to visit my Grandma. I loved those road trips. I loved riding in the backseat while we drove endlessly and taking in my surroundings. I loved being with my Grandma and eating at Chet's.
However, the drive to Tulsa is rather uneventful. There is really nothing between Oklahoma City and Tulsa. As I drove I was looking around at how beautiful Spring has made everything. I noticed the leafy trees and fields filled with cattle. Then I saw the red dirt, and an overwhelming feeling came over me. I am an Oklahoman. I don't just live here, but my roots are here-my heritage. My parents both grew up here, my mom's parent's too. My great grandparents lived through the Dust Bowl, and when most people headed West, they stayed. I feel connected to this beautiful land. I don't know what it would feel like to move around a lot as a child, but being connected like this to a specific place is so comforting somehow. I love the red dirt, the open land, the thunder storms and how the lightning dances across the sky. I love having neighbors who wave 'hi' when you drive past and the amazing sunsets.
I know we probably won't live here forever, but for now I'm glad we're here.
Oh, and all of my brothers are moving back this summer. I'm STOKED!
1 comment:
Jake and I both loved this post.
I feel like I have two native lands. I am/was a fourth generation native Arizonan. I feel connected to that land, those mountains, the desert. But I call myself a transplant Oklahoman. I like to bathe in red dirt. The clay that makes up the wash through Edgemere and Crown Heights Park is especially fun to wash your hands with.
Post a Comment