THE BREAD LOAF JOURNAL
For My Appalachians KAYLA HOSTETLER | VERMONT History and society has written you down as uneducated, simple, abusive, addicts. As hillbillies, mountain people, As destined to be barefoot and pregnant. As less than. But you are greater than. You are the sounds of folk music. Stomping and clapping that fills the holler with thunderous joy. Reverberating back and forth between the mountains. You are laughter exploding from family picnics. As hundreds of years of oral histories come to life. As Uncle Chester delivers a performance better than Broadway. A poetic story master. You are the earth and dirt. Generations of skill and love, poured into planting, growing, and sprouting new life. Self-sufficiency perfected. You are the mountains. Mothers that are unmovable. That are love and grit mixed together, producing offspring that will survive. You are the creek. Flowing and fast in speech and action. Adapting to changes that rise and recede. Knowing life if full of unexpected bends. You are mystical.
4 | VOLUME VIII
