To me, words aren’t merely a method of homosapien communication, but an expression. Words can convey such an array of emotions, it’s astounding.
Words, simple syllables strung together, can make me furious, heartbroken, terrified, and completely overjoyed.
Speak the words family, prairie, field, harvest, autumn, bonfire- and I am consumed with contentment, longing, homesickness, and a warmth that spreads throughout my entire being.
Mention words like ignorance Holocaust, bigotry, book burning, Red Scare, slaughter, and my mind is full of loathing, anger, and revenge.
Utter the words betrayal, loneliness, “used to be,” “in loving memory,” lost, aftermath, and my chest fills with an ache that leaves a chasm in my heart infinitely deep and dark.
But words have the ability to do so much more.
Stay. Beautiful. Captivating. Brilliant. Timeless. Priceless. Eternity. Dawn. Anew. Irreplaceable. Rising. Comfort. Caress. Tantalizing. Wonder. Taste.
I go weak at the knees. My mind goes hazy, my words dry up.
A well written paragraph is as seductive to me as a candlelit diner, a sentence concealing heartfelt emotions is more than a bouquet of flowers.
There isn’t any need for Shakespeare, a flowery quote with college-educated words, but take the time to pour your heart into a sentence and you’ve captured me.
Let me loose in a field of sentimental syllables, help me find my way through a maze constructed of raw emotions.
People have said that all a woman asks for is chocolate and roses- No, send me a letter with your very heart trapped in the ink, and I’m yours.
I suppose that a bit of a back story is needed before you can fully understand what the hell this post means.
I’m from Kansas- the Lenexa/Olathe side of Kansas City, but I’ve lived in the ‘burbs of Missouri since I was 4.
I don’t consider myself “country” and no, i’ve never owned a horse or had an accent. My “accent” sounds just like the newscasters on any television station you listen to.
I’ve always hated the term ‘redneck’ – I’ve found it demeaning. ‘country’ I’m fine with, but I prefer ‘we just have more common sense than most.’
I’m a midwestern girl through and through: I drive stick, I love the smell of cattle & corn & dust. Gravel roads are where I’m from. Summer is made of sprinklers and lemonade stands and weekend trips to grandma’s farm where we’d feed the cows & ride on grandma’s tractor.
Fall means bonfires, grilling out every week, the roar of the football stadium and playing tag-football with the neighbor boys down the street.
Winter means ice, ice and more ice.
It means going through more clothes in two days than you usually do in a week because you go sledding after school.
It means chapped noses and cheeks, and cracked knuckles and cold hands. Winter means stocking up on firewood because the power lines might break with the weight of the snow.
It means the cows get their winter costs, so they look like a child’s drawing-all fuzzy and warm.
The Midwest means practicality before popularity.
Our ancestors worked to survive, not survived to work.
It means stopping for a stranger stranded on the highway just because you have AC and their car overheated.
It’s making eye contact with strangers just to say “good morning”