Can't Take the Home Out of Oklahoma

Almost two months ago, my brother and his kids saw Twisters. I was visiting them one evening, and my brother had the soundtrack playing over Amazon's Alexa. The country twang surprised me, as Blake is generally a pretty hard rocker, but when Out of Oklahoma came on, I was transported. I've probably listened to it at least 50 times since.*

Sometimes people forget that I was born in Oklahoma. Almost 11 years of my life were spent there, and they were perhaps the most important years. I learned to walk in Oklahoma. I learned to talk in Oklahoma. I learned to read, ride a bike, and swim in Oklahoma. I lived across the road from a farm and got used to the constant smell of manure. I caught crawdads with my siblings in the ditch behind our house, and I caught my first fish at Theta Pond. I belly-flopped from the high dive at Yost Lake. I had the best ice cream of my life at Braum's. I enjoyed cool October nights during Oklahoma State's homecoming festivities and marveled at all the floats made by college students. I learned how to recognize the weirdly green sky that warned of a tornado, and I sheltered in our cellar and wondered whether the wooden doors would hold.

Images of the soft and gentle, pale green plains and hills are burned into my brain. The miles of wheat dotted with perfect red barns. Native American shops selling dream catchers. Muscogee, Okmulgee, Pawnee, and Seminole are city names that are easy to pronounce. Stories of the Trail of Tears and Oklahoma Land Run are as familiar to me as stories of the Bible.

I can tell you the names of my friends in elementary school: Grace, Erin, Sarah, Michelle, Abbey, Laura, Katie, Ginny, Angela, Delisa, Kendra, Chris, Matt, Mathew, Joseph, Ahmed, Nick, Niles, and Mark.

What would I have been like if we hadn't moved? Probably more outgoing and confident. I don't remember having many cares in the world until we moved to Georgia, where I became shy and reserved. I struggled to make friends. I ached for the people I missed and the land I knew. People spoke differently in Georgia. They said "ol'" for "oil" and "Hey" instead of "Hi." They all seemed to be related -- first cousins and second cousins and third cousins, once removed. They attended the same churches and addressed adults as "ma'am" and "sir." I didn't understand this new place, and I missed my home.

Now, I often call Georgia home because most of my immediate family still lives there and because as most people do, I adapted and learned to love the Deep South. Now, I miss the tall pines and overgrowing kudzu and red dirt. I miss the winding highways and the homesteads with junk on the porch and broken-down cars in the yard. I miss the chatty cashiers and the finger waves from steering wheels as other drivers pass by on the road.

But every now and then, I miss those green plains and wheat fields. I miss the feeling of being a child with no worries. I miss home.

Thing I'm thankful for: waking up from bad dreams

*Lainey Wilson has lots of other great songs, but "Out of Oklahoma" is my favorite. If you're into country that has a rockin' feel, try these out: 4X4XU, Wildflowers and Wild Horses, Dirty Looks, and Things a Man Oughta Know.

Also, I finally saw Twisters about a month ago. I didn't like it as much as Twister, but it was still fun to watch, especially since it was filmed on location in Oklahoma. Fun fact: My hometown makes a surprise appearance!