Spilt Grape Juice
After George Ella Lyon
I am from the white-tiled floor of Grandma’s kitchen.
Chicken-n-dumplins’ and pass me the corn bread
From tin roofs, rain patter, and Lady Bugs on her window sill
From “Let me kiss it and make it better.”
Warm oatmeal cookies coming out of the oven
Filling my stomach and warming my heart.
I am from long hugs, tuck-me-ins, and tell me that story again.
I am from living room forts and spilt grape juice
all over the granite countertop that my mother loved so much.
Scraped knees, untied shoes, and curly braids
From “ready or not, here I come”
until there is nowhere else to hide.
I am from long July evenings but even longer church sermons.
from bare feet, porch swings and water hose baths
From hand-me-downs and hand-me-outs.
To the grab-and-go breakfast, but the sit-around-the-table dinners
Our lives strung together by the sleepy smiles and morning coffees.
From hayfields in early October
To the fireflies in late April
I am from the green frogs that gather around the edge of the muddy creek
waiting to take the leap
waiting to leave their footprints tattooed on the soft soil beneath them.
I am from pine cones and yellow jonquils
That cover the land I love
The land I call home.
Kelsey Osborne is a first semester senior at the University of the Cumberlands. She is an English secondary and middle school education major. After graduation in May of 2019, she hopes to start a career in teaching.
Pensworth 