I am From...

I wrote this poem describing my early childhood.

I am from “Family First,”

From nine L’s, and “Love at Home,”

From a selfless mother, a hard-working father, and six beloved brothers and sisters,

From converts and commitment and testimony.

I am from siblings and cousins as best friends,

From a crooked smile and almost losing my thumb in the car door.

I am from keeping the Sabbath day holy and two prayers at mealtime.

I’m from chores that never slept and endless hours spent playing and creating,

From July 4th watermelon-seed-spitting contests, dozens of pies every Thanksgiving, and matching homemade flannel pajamas at Christmas.

I am from the smell of lilacs and silage,

From being frugal and honest,

From purple corduroy knickers and telephone party lines.

I am from divorced parents, heartbreak, and insecurity,

From forgiving and rebuilding.

I am from a Shetland pony named Sonny and a cat named Jellybean.

I’m from the taste of our buttery theater popcorn and watching movies from the upstairs window with my dad.

I am from biting cold winters covered in snow,

From springtime skeeters in the irrigation ditch and snow still on the mountains and the willow tree whose wispy branches calmed and comforted me,

From summer camping excursions up High Creek and star-gazing in the unpolluted country sky,

From raking huge piles of fall leaves to jump into from the tall branches of a tree.

I am from taking the salt shaker to the garden to eat fresh tomatoes, selling our home-grown corn for a dollar-a-dozen, and bottling hundreds of bushels of peaches and other food.

I am from “Family First,”

From nine L’s, and “Love at Home.”