Today’s writing prompt at The Daily Post is the word, martyr.
I recently moved back to Alabama after living in Connecticut for nearly four years.
One Saturday morning I was driving down US 280, missing CT and my friends, a job that I’d loved, and everything else I’d left behind. In short, I was homesick and feeling like a real martyr. Never mind that I’d been living hand-to-mouth for four years, and even ended up filing bankruptcy. Further, my last address proved to be a less than ideal living situation. Yet, I refused to give up fighting the good fight to stay in New England until a serious illness in my family arose.
Okay. So anyway, I was at a stop light when this guy in an old blue & white pick-up pulls up next to me. He starts shouting something so I rolled down my window, expecting the worst. I was in no mood for some clown to illustrate exactly why they call it The Dirty South.
I was wrong. Real wrong.
He says, “Welcome to Alabama! I seen your Connecticut plates an’ wanted to welcome you to our state!” He went on to ask me where I was going & if I knew how to get there. We chatted until the light turned green. Then he wished me a nice day and that was that.
I could not stop smiling.
What a nice guy.
The Dirty South really ain’t so dirty, after all. Plus, we’ve got fried pickles & boiled peanuts!