I’ve joined a month long writing group and our first assignment was to get in touch with where we came from. We were tasked with writing a poem…not my strong area! The format came from a poem written by George Ella Lyons. So, today I become a bit more vulnerable in my writing and share with you a snippet of Where I’m From…

Where I’m From…

I am from “Kevin, Mary, Kathy, Mike, Megan, Jeff, Jenny, Matt”
and a kitchen table made from a door!
From children that were to be seen and not heard and ironing hankies.
From the big house on the corner with lots of gardens to weed.

I am from the front pew of church full of legs trying not to swing
and the white baptismal dress passed down.
From real butter and link sausage on Christmas and Easter.
From a teacher, a newspaper man, and seven of eight.

I am from pine needle houses and imaginary horses.
From half cheese glasses of juice, cookie cans above the stove
and hot dogs roasted over the fire.
From Herb Alpert and Firestone Christmas albums.

I am from people who loved me even if they struggled to show it.
From Sunday night pot roast and Wonderful World of Disney.
From beach fires, skinny dipping, inner tubes, bee stings and
the deep blue waters of Bead Lake.

I am from hard times and amazing times.
From a family torn apart…
But a childhood lived well.