Saturday, February 7, 2009
I am from Popsicles and ice cream, swimming holes on hot days. From mountains, pine trees, and neighbors helping neighbors.
I am from brothers and sisters, sharing bedrooms and chores. From grandparents, cousins, picnics and bumblebees.
I am from stinging nettles, hay fields, apple orchards and rattlesnakes. From corn on the cob, tree houses, and tomatoes.
I am from midnight mass, Christmas lights, baking cookies. From new Easter dresses, old nuns and piano lessons.
I am from freckles and braces, fishing and S'mores. Milking cows and 4-H, shaking fresh cream into butter.
I’m from small town Oregon, sagebrush and juniper. Kittens in barns, hunting and fishing. Wilted lettuce with bacon, watermelon and jump ropes.
I am from hand-me-down clothes, broken bones, and mud puppies. Catching frogs in dad's pond, bare feet and peddle pushers. Air conditioning was an open window, crickets singing me to sleep. From grasshoppers in jars, kick the bucket and tag.
I am from pictures fading in albums, being tickled by daddy. From marriages that endure but not always happy. I am from farmers, and sweet smelling hay. Koolaid in the summers, oatmeal and wood heat. From barbed wire fences, skinned knees, and old canning jars.
What are you from?