There are times when I totally miss living in the South ... times when I miss the sight of the Smoky Mountains surrounding my hometown, the sweet aroma of honeysuckle blossoms in the spring, the slow and meandering parade of the Tennessee River as it winds gently through the valley. I miss sweet tea and front porch rocking chairs and the all-evening-long conversations that go hand-in-hand with that tea and those chairs. I miss the easygoing nature of folks in the South ... folks who never seem to be in a hurry ... folks who chat with total strangers in the grocery store ... folks who spend hours and hours sitting around a table talking and listening ... folks who know how to slow down and not rush from one task to another ... folks who understand that nothing's more important than being there for each other. I miss all of those things about living in the South, but you know what I miss the most? I miss my family ... I miss my sister and brother, my nephews and nieces, my greats and my great-greats ... I miss my family most of all.
Yesterday afternoon, I spent several hours at Shelby's graduation party at a bar and grill in Kansas City. There were a bunch of folks from Shelby's family there, as well as a large group of her friends. I spent my time alternating between chatting with Shelby's two sisters (whom I adore, by the way) and sitting at the end of a long table filled with Brad and Shelby's friends. I've known some of those kids for many years ... like Roy ... and some I met for the first time yesterday ... like Heather. I love that Brad and Shelby's friends like me ... or if they don't, they do a heck of a job pretending they do anyway. I love how easy the conversation is with them (and that they include me in their discussions) and how they go out of their way to let me know they accept me just the way I am. I love that I can let my guard down with them ... that I never have to worry about being judged or ridiculed or treated unkindly by them ... I can completely let my guard down and feel beyond safe while doing so.
I don't drink much anymore, but every once in a while I'll have a low-carb beer or two. Part of the reason I don't drink very often is because it doesn't take much to make me tipsy due to the meds I take each day. And when I'm tipsy, my Southern comes out in a big, big, big way. My accent gets stronger, I crave sweet tea and I have to force myself not to drive to Cracker Barrel so I can sit in a rocking chair on the porch. But my biggest Southern that comes out after a beer or two? I hug people and kiss them on the cheek when I greet them or say goodbye ... yep, get one or two beers in me and I turn into my sister and kiss the cheeks of everyone I know. Lord have mercy on my soul ... I turn into a cheek-kissing fool when I drink. Hopefully, I haven't offended anyone when my Southern comes out, and if so, I apologize ... you can take the girl out of the South, but when she drinks beer, you simply can't take the South out of the girl.
Oh, and for those of you who clicked on this post when you saw the title thinking it was going to be some spicy revelation about me being gay, you should never judge a book by its cover ... or a blog post by its title. It's what's inside the book or the blog post that matters ... just like what's inside a person's heart.
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