As kids, we were always running from something.
Growing up in the country,
you just get use to it.

We ran from bees,
snakes,
dogs,
cows,
each other,
mamas with belts.
Always something.

We were our own Norman Rockwell painting
of great times
in our own
perfect world.

We were just like those white kids he painted
thinking our world was
perfect enough
for us.

Norman never showed us
what it was we were running from.
What frightening creatures chased at our heels.
Just showed us running
and there was nothing greater
than living
the life
we were living.

But somewhere along the way
the paintings changed
and so did we.
We grew up
and life was not as perfect
as the painting.
Instead of running from the monsters
we moved towards them.

There was no more running away.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Covesville, VA