Where I’m From

I saw this at Finn’s place and I loved it so much I couldn’t wait to do one of my own.  I’d love to see more of these, so if you’d like to do one the template is here. Thank you to George Ella Lyon for the original poem.  I think everyone could do a different one of these every day, depending on what seems important at the time.

I am from a basin nestled between the snow-covered mountains, from Campbell’s Soup, apples freshly picked, and coffee with milk.

I am from the fences covered in Virginia Creeper, the swing in the world’s largest tree, Great Grandma’s rocking chair, and crackling fires on summer nights.

I am from the pinion pines and the sagebrush and the silvery rills, the clearest lake water, and the shimmering gold of a fool.

I am from pasties and painters, from Lucille and Ellens and Fredericks, Hugheses and Barkows.

I am from the smells of bread baking and the clink of ice cubes in the glass, the scent of scotch, and the Sound of Music.

From don’t let the bed bugs bite and home again home again jiggity jig and “hurry on sucker, Hell’s only half full!”

I am from Christmas Eve services and sunrises on the water. Long, laughing stories told over and over, and two hooks on my fishing pole. I am from bicycle rides and found chestnuts, fishing buddies, crochet lessons, library afternoons, and tea parties…shall we?

I’m from the wild west and the Bavarian hills, Lancer pride, the pack of the wolf, homemade ice cream and bouncing cherry pies.

From the unknown twin, the copper mine, and the aunt who refused to speak.  From ice cream cones on credit and walks to the post office to say hello to the old guys.

I am from the top of the closet and the hide-a-bed in the study, from the cedar chest and the safety deposit box.  From the faded gloss of yellowed photos and cassette tapes hidden behind a chair.