I am from a Wurlitzer piano, from Clorox and rows Burpie Tomato plants.
I am from the the green tri-level on a country road that stretches a mile long paved in tar that pops when you ride your bike in the summer.
I am from the bright red, juicy strawberries that stain your hands pink, the corn field that grows green and tall to the sky, the sunshine yellow dandelions that must be picked for bouquets.
I am from big brown eyes, Richard and Trudy (or Trudi, depending on how she's spelling it that day).
I am from the laughing at the dinner table until you cry, singing three part harmony in the big green van and peeling each other's sunburned backs.
From this is not a hotel, get to work girls and you never know what will happen.
I am from sitting as a family in church, sharing Bibles, singing in the choir, and inner city missions.
I'm from the Heartland, homemade noodles, cheese surprise, bread pudding with warm vanilla sauce, melt in your mouth snickerdoodles, and cottage cheese with sugar on top.
From a wise dad with the kinky hair, the mom who knows someone everywhere we go and the sisters who all sound the same.
I am from Scotland, Ireland, Germany, a work camp on the Erie Canal, a sod house in Kansas, a country mercantile, an iron lung, a steel factory and small town Indiana.
My friend, Miss Sniz, introduced me to this poem and I decided to give it a try. It was so much fun to think back and ponder the various people, places and things that make me who I am today. You should give it a try, too. The template can be found here. I think I'm going to try to persuade my family to do this poem at our New Year's party. I'm sure that it would be enlightening in many ways.
I am from the the green tri-level on a country road that stretches a mile long paved in tar that pops when you ride your bike in the summer.
I am from the bright red, juicy strawberries that stain your hands pink, the corn field that grows green and tall to the sky, the sunshine yellow dandelions that must be picked for bouquets.
I am from big brown eyes, Richard and Trudy (or Trudi, depending on how she's spelling it that day).
I am from the laughing at the dinner table until you cry, singing three part harmony in the big green van and peeling each other's sunburned backs.
From this is not a hotel, get to work girls and you never know what will happen.
I am from sitting as a family in church, sharing Bibles, singing in the choir, and inner city missions.
I'm from the Heartland, homemade noodles, cheese surprise, bread pudding with warm vanilla sauce, melt in your mouth snickerdoodles, and cottage cheese with sugar on top.
From a wise dad with the kinky hair, the mom who knows someone everywhere we go and the sisters who all sound the same.
I am from Scotland, Ireland, Germany, a work camp on the Erie Canal, a sod house in Kansas, a country mercantile, an iron lung, a steel factory and small town Indiana.
My friend, Miss Sniz, introduced me to this poem and I decided to give it a try. It was so much fun to think back and ponder the various people, places and things that make me who I am today. You should give it a try, too. The template can be found here. I think I'm going to try to persuade my family to do this poem at our New Year's party. I'm sure that it would be enlightening in many ways.
5 comments:
I love where you're from. All of it.
Monica, this is wonderful! It gives both a home-ish and a wander-ish feeling. I love it.
This is my sister Vanessa's poem. It just about made me cry.
I am from my grandfather’s workbench vice from Pledge and little envelopes of pink colored corn seeds.
I am from the home where the winter wind whistles in the chimney and the thunder rolls and shakes the windows in the summer.
I am from the wild mint, the Queen Anne’s Lace.
I am from hours of basketball in the driveway with dad and red curly hair and a passionate temperament to match, from Richard and Trudy and Marvin.
I am from those who can never find their keys and must make sweet tea for every gathering.
From don’t be selfish, and if we work really hard for a little while, then we can have a big coke.
I am from dewy Easter mornings at church for sunrise services, sitting in the sound booth with dad, pitch-ins, youth group lock-ins, and helping mom reconstruct the crossing of the Red Sea for the first graders.
I'm from the Midwest, from Indiana, Scotland, Ireland, from homemade noodles, apple pie Grandma McClughen’s sugar cookies, and bread pudding.
From the summer Barbara got poison ivy so bad she had to be on steroids and hit a hundred home runs, the sisters who were always late driving to school, and the mother who invited us to stare at the sky and let the rain fall as we laid on the sidewalk.
I am from my mom’s box of elementary school artwork, from my orange crocheted tiger whose tail is nearly pulled off and from grandpa’s cedar chest full or wedding quilts and baby blankets.
I loved this post Monica! What a great idea.
How are you doing on your to-do list? I am so glad you did this poem too. It is so cool. It truly evokes memories, doesn't it? I'm considering writing mine in Calligraphy and framing it! Your's is so fun. I hope your family does it too!
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