Where I Am From

Last week my cousin Martha posted something she had written for a comp class on her blog. The assignment was to rewrite the poem Where I Am From by George Ella Lyon. She challenged her readers to write their own poem. Which her sister Anna, and our cousin Tami also did quite beautifully!

So here is my crack at it!

Where I Am From-

I am from an old, turquoise, blue trampoline, from cowboy cookies and popcorn popped in a pot on the stove, salted and shaken in a brown, paper bag.

I am from the many places that were called home. From a cabin with no electricity or running water, a house shared with cousins, a trailer,  bedrooms shared with sisters, and finally my own room in our own home on 5 acres of land.

I am from the sweet, blackberries straight off the bush & the juicy peaches by the bushel at Granny’s, and the beautiful roses grown on bushes outside Grandma Bell’s house.

I am from school around the dining room table, Friday night family time with a rented VCR, movies and a gallon of ice cream, playing outside every day and reading for hours on end  from Bell and O’Hara.

I am from creating and dreaming, sacrificing and loving, and always making what looked like lack into more than enough. 

From “How old were you yesterday? How old are you today? and How old will you be tomorrow?”  and “First Call” .

I am from always loving Jesus, and doing your very best to follow His Word.

I’m from the English, the Irish, the Italian and the American Indian too. From spaghetti and green beans to cheeseburgers and french fries on special occasions.

From Paul getting locked outside in the snow and crying “Open the dooooah”, the Sunday afternoons never complete until Poppo said, “Look in that drawer over there” revealing the candy corn he thought was my favorite (because I never had the heart to tell him I didn’t like it), and the Christmases spent with all the cousins lined up in a row opening one present at a time oldest to youngest. Or was it youngest to oldest?

 I am from the hallways in Grandma and Poppo’s house, a gallery of every child, grandchild and great-grandchild in chronological order. From the little house in Carbondale where we were the only ones to spoil, and from a legacy of love and strength that is priceless.

I am reminded of Psalm 61:5 which says For You, O God, have heard my vows;  You have given me the heritage of those who fear Your name.

 I am certainly thankful for the heritage that has been passed down to me from parents, and from theirs; and I hope that my children are one day able to say the same thing.

Oh and If you would like to write your own poem you can find the template here. If you do write one, leave me a comment with your link so I can pass it along!