Claire's assignment and my rendition of it. Inspired by her homework.
Where I'm From
I am from old houses with creaky wood floors, musty attics filled with treasure and willow trees and neighborhood ball games on summer days.
I am from grandma's kitchens that smell like clorox and cookies.
I am from cracked neighborhood sidewalks with crackling leaves in the fall and dusty rain in the spring.
I am from small town familiar in the mid-west, Seasons change faster than people here.
I am from hugs in the kitchen and homework with friends, and meaningful conversations at the table.
Popcorn and tea served on a tray with cups and saucers......as we watch Little House on the Prairie on weeknights. My mom and my brother and me.....cozy if just for a short time.
I am from Heidelberg Catechism and the books of the bible song......and a fire-and-brimstone preacher and long prayers. I am from hymns, the Apostles Creed, the Lord's Prayer.
I am from egg coffee and dutch food. From peppermints passed down the row in church. From hot cider over the holidays and ham at Easter. I am from traditions with food. I am from family at holidays. I am from intimacy and memories.
In my top dresser drawer is a handkerchief or two, taken from grandmothers who have gone on to Heaven and have no need for them now. They used their hankies like I use a box of Kleenex, and perhaps a swipe from my dry hand to wipe away tears. These handkerchiefs caught tears and sneezes and wiped baby noses. They waved away bad smells. They were washed and dried and IRONED! They had croched edges with lace.....they were special. They were useful. They were cherished. Cherished like the memories I have of childhood, and family and legacy.
I am from much more than this. Some of it is less sweet and more aweful. The beauty of poetry and memory and recounting is that I can bring forth all that was wonderful.....because that is what matters.
I am from old houses with creaky wood floors, musty attics filled with treasure and willow trees and neighborhood ball games on summer days.
I am from grandma's kitchens that smell like clorox and cookies.
I am from cracked neighborhood sidewalks with crackling leaves in the fall and dusty rain in the spring.
I am from small town familiar in the mid-west, Seasons change faster than people here.
I am from hugs in the kitchen and homework with friends, and meaningful conversations at the table.
Popcorn and tea served on a tray with cups and saucers......as we watch Little House on the Prairie on weeknights. My mom and my brother and me.....cozy if just for a short time.
I am from Heidelberg Catechism and the books of the bible song......and a fire-and-brimstone preacher and long prayers. I am from hymns, the Apostles Creed, the Lord's Prayer.
I am from egg coffee and dutch food. From peppermints passed down the row in church. From hot cider over the holidays and ham at Easter. I am from traditions with food. I am from family at holidays. I am from intimacy and memories.
In my top dresser drawer is a handkerchief or two, taken from grandmothers who have gone on to Heaven and have no need for them now. They used their hankies like I use a box of Kleenex, and perhaps a swipe from my dry hand to wipe away tears. These handkerchiefs caught tears and sneezes and wiped baby noses. They waved away bad smells. They were washed and dried and IRONED! They had croched edges with lace.....they were special. They were useful. They were cherished. Cherished like the memories I have of childhood, and family and legacy.
I am from much more than this. Some of it is less sweet and more aweful. The beauty of poetry and memory and recounting is that I can bring forth all that was wonderful.....because that is what matters.
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