When I was 14 years old I went to live with my grandmother, Nanny to me. It was the culmination of several years of battle with my mother, and it was the best thing that could have happened to me. I lived with her from 1984 until 1988.

Her little place in the world on Abbott Road is the place where I am most strongly connected. The place is so intertwined with the person, my Nanny, that I can't separate the two.

When I started thinking about this project, I immediately knew that Abbott Road was the place I had to write about. There was only one problem, I had not been to Abbott Road since 2003, right before my Nanny passed away. I know that my "Sense of Place" will never be diminished because I carry it with me, but I was curious to find out if the actual place still holds the same magic that it does in my mind. I quickly realized, as we started down Abbott Road last weekend, that it does not, but I am a tumble weed and I have moved from nothing special to nothing special for so long that Abbott Road, even the Abbott Road that now exists only in my mind, is the only place that I feel such a connection for.

I will never physically be on Abbott Road again. I am certain of this. But, I will always carry it with me, and pass it on to anyone who is interested.

I have decided to tell you my "Sense of Place" story through a "Where I Am From" poem. I believe the originator of the "Where I Am From" poem is George Ella Lyon.

My first version of this poem, written in about 2001, or so, called "I Am From" can be viewed at the link on the left.

"I Am From: Completed"

I am from a long time coming because I really must be going. Long trip longing.

I am from a cookie on the porch, handed to me by her, all the way to being all grown up and having a life handed to me. By her.

I am from a new beginning in the Great Smoky Mountains, Canton North Carolina, Abbott Road.

I am from a strange journey filled with wonder and fright. Would I be welcome, was this for real, could I really stay as long as I wanted?

I am from a little lady named Katie Lou Laney, Nanny to me. Yes, I was named after her. I must live up to that name.  She was barely 5 foot tall. She was a giant. Cute and tiny, filling my world. I wanted to keep her in my pocket.

I am from a tin trailer. Long and lean. Drafty. Leaky in spots. A palace.

I am from knowing she would be there, waiting for me to get home, sitting at her end of the kitchen table.

I am from a front porch with a glider of green.

I am from many rides in a green Dodge Dart. Scary rides given that my Nanny was very likely to be guessing where the road was. She was legally blind in one eye. She liked to drive fast.

I am from nights spent playing Scrabble with my two Great-Aunts and my Nanny. Aunt Dean was the reigning champion.

I am from cold winters with frozen pipes. I am from lots of snow and ice. Closed school for weeks. Yippee! Oh, no! You have to make that up in the end?

I am from cool summer nights sitting on the porch listening to frogs talk to each other about frog business. I am from wishing I could speak frog.

I am from hot summer days at the Laundromat. Nanny called it the "hellhole". Saying that made her giggle.

I am from fragrant, wild flower filled, springs. Lots of honey suckle. I am from wondering why there is so little honey in each flower.

I am from a creek in my yard that ran deep in the spring and shallow in the summer. Tin trailers were made for the sounds of rain and creeks.

I am from the divinity one can only find in perfectly made, hot, potato soup, yes, with cheese please. Cornbread in the cast iron skillet is the best cornbread.

I am from a bad cook who loved to fix me a plate, and then stand over me before I was finished so she could wash the dishes. Eat those last three bites fast, or you won't get them.

I am from a steep cow pasture begging to be rolled down. Yes, you hit poop. Who cares? It was fun.

I am from a mountain filled with blackberries, waiting for me, luring me. The blackberries liked to hang around with ticks. Life is a trade-off.

I am from long walks to, and from the bus, that never got boring.

I am from a steep driveway that led to tranquility.