Dusty Roads.

I am from dust packed roads that smelled like summertime and cinnamon.
The first time I set foot onto the dirt path road, it felt like I had gone back in time. Finding myself in a different world where the animals roamed around freely and people in town still all knew each-other. And the closest store was only 3 minutes away on foot.
Waking up to my grandmothers natural mix of cinnamon and herb tea every morning with some fresh food picked right from the garden to help give a little boost to the human soul, as we prepared for a long days work of milking the cows feeding the chickens. We would follow that dirt road talking and sining of everything and nothing. I would let the dirt sink deep into my heels, so when I return I can remember that this dirt has made its way into my blood and that I was there and I lived.

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Dusty Roads.

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