I am from canning jars, from Rainbow Brite and homemade with love birthday cakes.
I am from the white house on Yvonne Street, the school room sun porch, the sound of the waves and pebbles pulled to sea.
I am from hostas, queen anne's lace, rocks for sale, the lilac bush, dandelion chains, the sweet smell of spring and the bitter taste of fall decay.
I am from the devout and stubborn and brilliant, from Rae and Cliff and Dorothy and Edward.
I am from creative and crafty, plumbers and pipe fitters, working with hands and loving with all your being.
From "cold hands, warm heart" and "watch out for the quiet ones".
I am from daily Mass, rosaries, and the Father the Son and the Holy Spirit, from a Congregational church in the middle of town, from choir practice and red robes with gold sashes.
I'm from Johnstown and West Virginia and Ohio, from Germany and Whales and Ireland, warm German potato salad and spice cake with cream cheese frosting.
From the day Toby got stuck in a snowdrift- mom taking pictures before rescuing, gin rummy with Grammy, The Flood, the crayon on the wall and Cliff's bike accident near graduation day.
I am from the albums in Florida, quilts made by my grandmothers and mother, from Blueberries for Sal and Where the Sidewalk Ends. From the hutch, and glass candy jars now filled with buttons, from soup bowls with surprises on the bottom, the pachinko machine and the porch swing. From bits of memories and fragments of stories, cracks filled by pictures - the collages on paneling.
From East Coast and almost Colorado. From Bob and Tee, Cliff Ave and home sweet school. I'm from moving boxes and pictures hung on the wall, from Christmas morning not starting until 7am, from Stromboli and oatmeal raisin cookies.
I'm from comfort and warmth. From love.
{this writing exercise has been going around... I'm linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs and their Writing Me activity... join us!}