Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Where I'm From

The second in a two-part series. Yesterday's was The Man's post, today is mine. Thanks, MissKris!

I am from peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, from Scholastic book clubs, and the Beaver State.

I am from the wide front porch, hockey up and down the long hallway, and a slip-n-slide dining room.

I am from red-all-the-way-through strawberries and monster rhododendrons, the Bleeding hearts and grapes tucked away on the side of the farm.

I am from sugar cookies and stubbornness, from Oscar and Jean and parents who loved me whether I liked it or not.

I am from the pioneers, the real Oregon Trail ones, the Protestant ideal of “work hard and ye shall succeed,” and that my word is my bond. From gingerpeachykeeno and summathat, cricks and oyoyoy!

I am from Sunday morning Nascar races, visiting family all weekend long, and feeling Bible-thumped by friends that now have a hard time understanding why I became Catholic.

I'm from the flatlands surrounded by mountains, from grass county, from the Willamette Valley, from Germany and England and Russia, from milk noodle soup and Mom’s spaghetti.

I am from the woman who fended off angry Native Americans from the back of a covered wagon with an axe, a grandpa whose tickles lasted long after he stopped wiggling his fingers on my belly, and parents who always read to me when I asked.

I am from a hand-made pink flannel photo album, a little blue French textbook, a family tree spanning four continents in six hundred years, from the guffy house full of treasures of Dad’s life, his parents’ life, and lives way way back on the old farm.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

i like it.

its "purdy good."