Monday, June 19, 2006

Where I'm From

I am from bare, leafless, winter trees, from Ford and tires and automatic transmission.

I am from the yellow brick house on Sugarbush Road, warm, cozy, filled with the smell of home-made bread.

I am from the elm, the lilac, the bales of straw, from the maple, the african violet, the woolen yarn.

I am from no elbows on the table and laughter, from Ed and Gladys, Russell and Catherine, and others I'll never know.

I am from feelings that are easily hurt and the fear of never being good enough.

From people who are all the same except for how they look, and from always treat people as I would be treated.

I am from teetotalers and Women's Christian Temperance Union, from Bible-thumpers and deep spiritual grace, from forgiveness, from baptism.

I'm from Michigan and Serbia and England, from sailing ships and immigrants, from farmers, cabbage, and chicken noodle soup.

From the old swamp cedar for a Christmas tree and the house that burned down, from the box factory in Chicago, and the childbirth death of a grandmother.

I am from World War II, from cigar boxes of anonymous photos, from men who proudly served and women who anxiously waited. I am part of the unbroken thread, one beating heart, one pair of hands, passing love and laughter and a hope to make a better place for my grandchildren. This is the legacy passed to me, and which I pass on.

Where I'm From -


Cassie said...

Being from the same places; this really hits the heart. Thanks mom.

Hannelie said...

Gramma, this was just beautifull to read. You wrote it very well and it's sounds so romantic and from far away. I could 'feel' the history and 'see' every thing you discribed.
Thanks for sharing.

Seeker said...

You've evoked a bunch of memories and emotions.
Nice writing.

Michelle said...

Gramma, that was very beautiful :o)