I am from the white bungalow with black shutters at the end of the crescent, pizza picnics in the basement with Grizzly Adams, from chinooks and mountains looming.
I am from the knotty old cherry tree in front of the stone wall, the lilac drunkenness of May.
I am from summer camping trips and pioneer pies, from the smell of the coffee thermos open in the car, from quiet reflection.
From Susan and Ingrid and Dorothy, Victor, George and Ray.
I am from hardworking and faithful, from moral.
From “I’m proud of you” and “Will it still hurt in 20 years?”
I am from infant baptism, two years of confirmation and grace taking hold, from finding myself in the reflection of my ancestors and from opening one gift before candlelit Christmas Eve.
I’m from furtraders and farmers, preachers and knitters, from Dala horses and Robbie Burns. From lefse, green cookies and gingersnaps.
From riding the city bus to Lunchbox Theatre, breaking the toothpick in Papa’s mouth, “Will the circle be unbroken” and a strumming guitar.
From the rolling down the hill, the shrieking as the toothless 80 yr old water buffalo grandpappy careens into the lake, the silent search for four leaf clover. From coffee sharing in Mormor’s bed and stolen sips of sweet, milky, cold tea. From sucking the foam off the rum and coke in the tall red glass as the sun climbs over the yardarm.
I am from dancing with Daddy on the red shag rug in the Christmas tree glow, from stockings filled with After Eights and cherry chapstick, from boggle and chinese checkers.
I am from Anne of Green Gables read out loud, from tunnel mountain, from counting lightning in the rain.
This idea is from here. It was alot of fun to do, and I thought a fitting introduction to the new blog. Working on it brought up many spinning thoughts and memories, so much so that I have had trouble sleeping. Hopefully, the words posted here will take my insomnia with them.