Where I'm From

Several months ago I saw this on a couple of my friends' blogs and just last week Kyler had this assignment in English class. (And now I'm typing all 100 of them for volunteer hours.) My mind has been spinning nonstop and it has been so fun to dig up childhood memories deep in the recesses of my brain. This is based on a poem by George Ellen Lyon and if you care to take a stab, you can find the poem template here.

Where I'm From

I am from homemade playdoh, from Cabbage Patch and Smurfs on Saturday mornings.

I am from the house on the corner with neighborhood children licking popsicles in the backyard or playing "Monster" between the stairs and chimney, chain us up and then "Tag, you're it!"

I am from the summers and Christmases in Iowa, my uncles' pig and cattle farms, the stinky farmland smell of the Midwest.

I am from pizza every Friday night and reciting a prayer in German even though no one really knows what it means, from John Edward and JoAnn.

I am from the weekend soccer tournaments, cheering in torrential rain or scorching sun and always believing in Santa Claus.

From "I love my Jennifer, oh yes I do" sung to me at bedtime and "I trust you enough to let you make your own mistakes."

I am from a new dress and fancy hat for Easter Sunday, and from Vacation Bible School, homemade crafts still resting on Mom's dresser after all these years.

I'm from German ancestry, from kiethla sprinkled with cinnamon sugar and mashed potato casserole at every holiday dinner.

From Grandpa Schlick's wet kisses (always on the lips) and Grandpa Dirks' scratchy whiskers when he hugged me tight.

I am from the ragged photo albums and overflowing memory boxes stuffed in the closets of my childhood home, beckoning me share them and the stories they contain with my own children, so I will not forget and they will come to know where I'm from.