The Motherland

As soon as I step foot in Arkansas my heart relaxes. Despite the heat, the humidity, my lungs fill up faster. My body was born here and it recognizes Home. I am happy in Minneapolis, as I was happy in Kansas City, and St. Louis, and so happy in New Orleans. But my happiness in Arkansas has a heavier feel. The weight of family and love and barbeque and the hill where I crashed my bike and the vacant lot where I played house and the best dog in the world and the plum trees I laid under and the yellow jackets that made my feet swell and the walk to the bus stop at the top of the hill and the cinnamon toast at Mamaw's when I had the chickenpox and the swing set that tipped too high and...