Where I'm From

I am from faded jeans and Dad’s cardigans, from Michelob and Pepsi, and The Sons of the Pioneers.

I am from the cool mountain pines; gentle breezes on dry clear summer days; dirt roads and winding paths and bonfires on Friday nights; Lynx Lake with all its hidden trails and the fish I never could catch.

I am from the junipers and mountain lakes, the saguaro and mesquites in bloom.

I am from big buffet dinners, “always room for one more”, “you’re only a stranger once”, and laughing aloud to the Sunday Comics, from June and Mary, and friends so close they’re family.

I am from the procrastinators and those who’ve never met a stranger.

From ”You’ve got such potential!” and ”hush little baby, don’t say a word”.

I am from enthusiastic Amens and humble prayers, from a solid rock and “Jesus loves me”. From fellowship and brotherhood and abiding love. From the comfort of a well-worn Bible and the struggle of living its directions.

I'm from the mining towns of Arizona, and the farms of Tennessee. From farmers, ranchers, entrepreneurs. From a newsstand owner and a fiery widow. From Germans and Irish, Dutch and English, but wholly American. From buttered noodles and thick steaks and hot coffee.

From the death of my father, always wondering “do I get this stubbornness from him? This sense of humor?”, the gift of my stepfather, knowing “Dad loved this”, and the depth of being loved by the family I married into.

I am from the backyard swing in Texas, five years old and full of life; from the Christmas gatherings in Albuquerque, bittersweet, even then. I’m from green chile burritos, cruising Tramway, and hiking the Appalachain Trail. From the airport in Charlotte and a suburb of Pittsburgh. I’m from the apple orchard in Gleason, TN, and Mr. Brown’s farm down the road.

I’m from sunrise in the kitchen, hot coffee and fresh note paper. From the local news talk show and the annual lighting of the Courthouse.

And from my husband, I’m from New Mexico, from sheepherders and teachers and cowboys. From Corona days and barn dances and hunting in Cloudcroft. From mormon tea plants and lamb’s quarters, the Rio Grande and the Gallo. From so much more than before...

Hat Tip to Amy, who found it (and directions/tips for making one of your own) here. Give it a try, and if you do it, either let us know where you blogged it or, if you don't have a blog, leave it in the comments section.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy