Red Dirt and Grits
Growing up one of my greatest treats was when I was able to go to my great grandmother’s house that was a landmark in South Carolina. I enjoyed hearing stories about my family, and knowing that a battle was fought and won in the very place that I stood. This would make me a Daughter of the American Revolution. Besides the amazing stories, being able to pick berries, and playing with my cousins, the greatest part of visiting was the food.
It was guaranteed that I would have grits, sausage, bacon, and my pick of fruit for breakfast with some sweet tea. Lunch and dinner would be anything my heart desired followed with either an amazing cake or pie.
In that very house I was taught how to be a lady and how to keep my voice soft, but still mean business. Prayer was what we did when we woke up, before we went to sleep, and as we left the house.
Since I spent most of my time in the city, a portion of the yard also was home to two of my dogs. I would spend time loving them, and I knew they loved me back. In the midst, my older cousins taught me everything from how to braid my hair to how to make a touchdown without an interception. One would go on to be Miss South Carolina USA, and the males would play in the major league.
Now that my great grandmother has passed the house is empty, but even when in I get to visit and I look into the windows, they bring back some great memories of red dirt and grits.