Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Where I am From...

The other day I was searching around for some inspiration and my search, as it often does, led me to Quill Cottage and Sandy Babb.  As I explored her blog, going further and further back in time, I came across a post that struck me so deeply that I've found myself thinking about it since.

Her post is a poem, based on a writing exercise by George Ella Lyon and undertaken by other bloggers, including Sandy.  You can read Sandy's poem Here and follow her links to the blogs that were her original inspiration.

Here is my version:  I Am From...

I am from tall trees and dark forests,
sand dunes and big water.

I am from brown oak trees and acorns,
and the blazing colors of sugar maples.

I am from winding rivers,
and a wedding under autumn leaves.

I'm from the east coast and the west coast,
and the "mitten" in between.

I'm from smokestacks and haystacks,
sidewalk hopscotch and dog walks on a country road.

I am from big straw hats and strings of perch,
shallow streams and petosky stones. 

I am from baseball broadcast from a transistor radio,
and the roses in my grandfather's garden.

I'm from fields of wild daisies and grasshoppers,
tall grass and fire flies.

I am from spotted dogs and long haired cats,
herons at the pond and bats in the night.

I'm from stories read from books by my mother,
and stories told at the kitchen table over coffee.

I am from ballet and disco,
rock-n-roll and singing the blues.

I am from old dogs and silly puppies,
pansies and peonies in my garden.

I am from the sound of a sewing machine,
and the smell of fresh bread baking in the oven.

I'm from wrestling with brothers and braiding sister's hair,
swimming lessons and life lessons.

I'm from Buster Brown shoes and Buster Brown hair,
old movies late at night and rocking chairs.

I am from needle and thread, paint and paper,
and singing in the choir.

I'm from laundry hanging on the line,
and necklaces hanging around my grandmother's neck.

I'm from white gloves and Sunday school,
and "Midnight in Paris" perfume.

I am from the comfort of a roaring fire,
and backyard picnics on warm summer days.

I am from Louisiana and Arkansas,
and small towns in Canada.

I am from loss and opportunity,
sadness and joy.

I am from the multitudes and solitude,
the goal attained and dreams lost in the mist of time.

I am from the chosen path and the road less traveled by.

I am from love and deprivation,
family and strangers that passed in the night.

I'm from going it alone and a journey together.

I am from generations past,
and babies that would not be.

I am from renewal
and hope for the future.


  1. I am applauding with my tears, they are pitter patting in tempo with the beauty of your words. I had forgotten about that poem, I must go back and read my own LOL! Arkansas is my stopping ground, love knowing we have this in common! Thank you for the linky love.

  2. Susan,
    This is a fabulous post, one that leaves me longing to hear more and glad that I can know you better through your words.

  3. Oh my this was a really special post. I love the way you did this, Thank you for a tear, words that go right to my heart. hugs, Mary

  4. This is beautiful, Susan...you really are a wonderful writer! This really touched me...

  5. Susan,

    You are one of the winners of my give away! I do hope you will stop by and claim your gift! Have a great weekend!

  6. Susan, So happy to meet you. I followed a link from Sandy's blog..congrats on winning the journal that "I" wished so hard to win.
    I liked reading about where you are from. I have been to a few of those places myself....like the buster brown hair....
    so nice to have met another wonderful person along the trail