All that's Jas
I'm from the country with green pastures, poplar groves, snowcapped mountains and shining blue beaches. I grew up in a red brick house with shutters colored in land’s end. Rain mist in a dawn of spring and the scent of dry sage can carry me back to the boxwood abutted street and laughter in the evenings of full moon. I dream of my grandmother’s wood stove where fresh laid eggs are baked on pork lard, of the world where kids are kissed on top of their heads, and where all girls named Jas are pretty but lazy, so I’ve been told. I come from a place where hearts are big and hugs are bigger, voices are loud, and smiles go twice around the ears.