Bound to the House, Bound to the Mountains
The snow has been relentless in the last few weeks and I have spent more time in one place that I have for years. I finally unpacked my bulky vintage cosmetics case that I lived out of for two years and at first it was a momentous occasion that seemed to signify that I was laying roots, but the more I find myself in residential West Virginia without a destination for an afternoon of gallivanting or burning calories in the sun, the more I realize that I must face the realities of my own geography and its imprint on my way of thinking. And how there are many binds here. The idea that I received a DNA test as a gift (as many people have) is interesting to me because it turned into more than just a fun way to find out if the rumors that you are Native American are true (my rumors are not substantiated, by the way. Got Dang Mitochondrial DNA!). Ancestry found that I had a first cousin that I did not know in their database. It didn't seem completely out of the ordinary that the bastard