I am from blue jeans, and swing sets and Peppermint Patties bought at the convenience store with a weeks worth of nickels saved from my lunch money.
I am from the big white Victorian in a bad neighborhood where the dust never settled long enough to be wiped away and there is a story in every crack in the sidewalk. I am from the elm trees that hang over the street, the dandelions growing through the cement we drew hopscotch on and the mulberries we secretly picked and ate behind the garages. I am from a loving ideal surviving in a struggling old neighborhood and a dinner table where talk of politics was encouraged.
I am from homemade pasta sauce and big St. Patrick’s Day parties, from Betty who sings while she cooks and Helen who always knelt on the floor with us to play checkers. I am from stubborn resolve and determined pride, being told I can accomplish anything if only I would just apply myself. I'm from Ellis Island and a dairy farm from oatmeal cookies and bread and fried cardoonies and manasta shama and pear wine and granola and olives and herbs.
I am from the hospital waiting room and, Grandma’s guest bedroom and the woods where fairies lived.
I am from a giant drawer in a buffet in the middle of my mother’s house where all of our family vacations are mixed with grade school portraits and lost baby teeth and hand colored cards it’s the kind of junk drawer that one grabs first if the house ever burns.
I am from the big white Victorian in a bad neighborhood where the dust never settled long enough to be wiped away and there is a story in every crack in the sidewalk. I am from the elm trees that hang over the street, the dandelions growing through the cement we drew hopscotch on and the mulberries we secretly picked and ate behind the garages. I am from a loving ideal surviving in a struggling old neighborhood and a dinner table where talk of politics was encouraged.
I am from homemade pasta sauce and big St. Patrick’s Day parties, from Betty who sings while she cooks and Helen who always knelt on the floor with us to play checkers. I am from stubborn resolve and determined pride, being told I can accomplish anything if only I would just apply myself. I'm from Ellis Island and a dairy farm from oatmeal cookies and bread and fried cardoonies and manasta shama and pear wine and granola and olives and herbs.
I am from the hospital waiting room and, Grandma’s guest bedroom and the woods where fairies lived.
I am from a giant drawer in a buffet in the middle of my mother’s house where all of our family vacations are mixed with grade school portraits and lost baby teeth and hand colored cards it’s the kind of junk drawer that one grabs first if the house ever burns.
But these are not the only places I am from.
7 comments:
'it’s the kind of junk drawer that one grabs first if the house ever burns.'
--love it!
Great job!!
Mary
Oh that was sooo pretty and poetic. I love the picture, makes me wish I was a kid on that street.
Thanks Jo - I wish you were a kid on that street too.
I have really enjoyed reading about where people are from. I will have to try this one myself.
hands down, my favorite "I am from" so far. i'll be back!
Holymama, Thanks you and oddly enough, I read your "I am from" and thought that it was interesting because it's the opposite of were I am from and yet here we are almost in the same place.
Ok, I mean opposite once you discount the fact that we are both privileged to be women born in America, had caring parents growing up, etc...
I realize I could be an aids orphan in the Sudan and that would probably REALLY be the opposite.
Post a Comment