Where I’m from

I am from a prairie where the sun shines upon it, from Saturday morning Bisquick pancakes and a Volkswagen Rabbit.

I am from the green ranch at the bottom of the cul de sac with the painted paneling, the grey bedroom, the woman in the basement and the door at the top of the stairs to watch tornadoes.

I am from the beaches of Maine, the towers of Chicago and the waters of Lake Tahoe.

I am from road trips in motor homes and mini vans. From Dad’s quick wit and a sense of curiosity from Mom, Jamie and Grandma. From a strong sense of independence, a sharp tongue and an attitude that often needs adjusting.

I am from give your kids wings and make great friends.

From watch your mouth and be nice to others!

I am from church every Sunday, from baptism and first communions. From answers that only created personal questions. From a world of politics and social beliefs that I had the freedom to not make my own.

I’m from the neighborhood with cornfields, big wheel drivers and kick-the-can masters. I’m from the mandarin orange salad, rice krispy treats, more Bisquick pancakes and hash brown lasagna.

From the man with the office in the basement and yellow legal pad, the mom that sacrificed while taking a lot of shit from her oldest and the sister that loved regardless. I am from a house full of love and photographs, a treasure chest full of coins and a neighborhood filled with fun.

I am from a land that gave their children wings and I am from a place I learned to fly.

(Found this by way of Jennifer at Playgroups are No Place for Children. The template to build your own can be found here.)

6 thoughts on “Where I’m from

    1. Sorry your oldest was such a pain in the ass! You were and are a great mom. I can only grow in appreciation of what you did as my kids grow. Love, me

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