crickl is from...

E-mom at Chrysalis is having a poetry drive. *lol* And she wants us to write I Am From poems. So here, e-mudder, my I Am From which I wrote 3 years ago when my daughter had to write one for an English assignment.

I am from orange popsicles,
dripping down my chin and elbow,
from hula hoops, roller skates with keys
and a purple Huffy ten speed
From the influence of hippies
and the 60’s and 70’s,
The Beattles, Monkees, James Taylor,
The Eagles, the BeeGees.
From air raid drills and the Viet Nam War.
Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan.

I am from the suburbs
of a growing desert city,
loving homes and big families,
neighbors talking and borrowing,
playing hide and seek, football
and kickball under the streetlight.
From a friend dying in the night in her bed.

I am from the dust storms and cactus
and grit in hair and teeth,
from toasting in the sun,
floating on the Salt River,
neighborhood swimming pools,
Dr. Pepper and fresh blue skies.
From Bonanza, the Beaver,
the Brady Bunch and Charlie’s Angels.

I am from camping in the mountains
and brown hair, from Bob and Jackie,
From far off grandparents and relations,
And the reputations of 4 older siblings.
A wayward sister, a far off brother in the navy.

I am from spoons balanced on noses
at holiday dinners and loud laughter.
Inside jokes and practical jokes.
Nose pants?

From don’t talk to strangers,
do unto others and stand up straight.

I am from a small Baptist church
full of love and mercy.
From a large Baptist church
that drew people in with love and mercy.
From FSBC, big G, youth group,
choir tours and busses full of kids.
The tunnels, the pink sidewalk and Slide Rock.

In my imagination I'm from Scots
and Kilts and bagpipes,
from the South and the Northwest
and the Southwest of the US.
Beef stew and chimichangas,
biscuits and tortillas.

From the death of a brother
an airplane crash,
the silence of grieving….
Sshhhh.
Looking at old photos and slides
in the living room, remembering.
From the disillusions
of older siblings’ divorces.
And the 60 year marriage of my parents.

I am from looking through
the cedar chest at memories,
sitting in a dark, cool closet
imagining.
I could never have imagined
all that God has brought me through
And all that life has put me through
…..but I am thankful for it all.