I am a child of the backwaters of the Mississippi River, just south of Memphis, TN. I fought and worked hard to rise up from these beginnings. Like so many of us, I couldn’t wait to break free and go as far away as possible. This area was poverty stricken with little hope for most. I found my way out and rarely looked back. Until recently. Where is home, really? What does it mean? I’ve come to realize that this tiny, godforsaken place was a deep part of me. One that I could no longer deny. Home is where you go to be with family to spend the balance of eternity. Home is that which forged who you are. Home is a reflection of what you’ve become. If that’s the case, then I am a Mississippian. A proud one.
“Home is where you go when you wake up dead”