I am from…

ImageInspired by Ann Voskamp’s blog and this template

I am from black and ivory keys until I get it right,

from full bookshelves and worn-out board games

I am from the big red brick with white lampposts, porch and swing

the sugar cookie perfume and warm blankets

I am from the tiny flame of a single candle

The cluster of saplings

whose long-gone limbs I remember

as if they were my own.

I’m from chocolate chip pancakes and chocolate chip skin

from Elwyn, Patricia, Marcella and John Wesley

I’m from let’s-go-why-not and girls-can-too

and from let’s-call-it-an-adventure

I’m from yes sir and no ma’am and “B-I-B-L-E”

and anything worth doing is worth doing right

I’m from Thanksgivings of 90+

I’m from the untamed llano and wild cowgirl pioneers

and barbecue beef and endless peaches

From no we’re not twins and that’s not me, that’s my sister

and actually that’s a photo of my mom at my age

from albums of beaches and mouse ears and clouds shot from planes

hidden under coffee tables and custom-built shelving and memories that don’t fade

even when most of them do, because let’s be honest, that’s not our strong point

and deep within runs the blood of wide open spaces and flying on horses and sepia farmhouses

Grandma’s photos aligned down the hall with tales now long silent

Ships arriving on Ellis and fields white with cotton and being German in the cold war

Working hard for your dreams and nothing’s impossible, and my, how far we’ve come

This is how I got here, who made me, those who came before

This is where I’m from.



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