inspired by Misty's post, here I go...
I am from dozens of journals hidden under bed and displayed on shelves,
from Crayolas fresh out of the box, and kickball on the Nelsons' end of the cul-de-sac.
I am from the tucked-away-dead-end-street,
ravines in back,
echoes of New Kids On The Block lyrics lingering longer than Popsicle stains on summer afternoons.
I am from the yard with the tree that was ablaze in magenta just two weeks in May, the rose bushes more thorns than flowers.
I am from opening Christmas presents one at at time to ooh and ahh till showtime at the movies in the afternoon and from stubbornness that clings like gum on a shoe,
from Maroon and Miller and Jones.
I am from playing board games and card games LOUDLY and laugh till you cry conversations.
From was it worth it and you are destined for greatness.
I am from holding hands to pray before a meal. From tears streaming down when The Old Rugged Cross is sung.
I'm from nowhere special and down-right wonderful, homemade chicken and noodles
and the same Christmas sugar cookie cutouts with sprinkles every year through college.
From the great-grandmother who gave her black friend a drink from her cup back when that was not allowed,
the grandfather who competed with his older brother in every sport,
and so many who taught me to stand up for what is right instead of what is popular, even when it costs me everything.
I am from shoeboxes containing photos, and senior pictures on the wall,
from programs of every concert my brother and I ever were a part of,
from a green spinny basement chair and jumping off stairs,
from sweet tea pitchers,
from love and tears and laughter and strength.
(added to the shelovesmagazine synchroblog on 9/24/13 - but I didn't change anything from how I wrote this over two years ago.)