I missed the contest deadline but, no matter, it was fun and I appreciate Finding Joy in the Morning giving us such a thoughtful, poignant project to think about. Make sure you visit her site here to enjoy the final entries.
I realized yesterday that I am such a visual person that I needed a worksheet to assist me with this poem. I couldn't have compiled without this template. I also realized what I've known all along. I'm not a leader. I'm a follower. I read the sample template (scroll down) and three Where I'm From poems (Elizabeth, Rebecca, and Lissa) before I was able to start my own. But here it is:
I am from calico sheets, plain brown Buster Brown shoes, white bookshelf Dad made me and Mom decorated and filled with books, and feather pillows.
I am from the two-story brick house down the lane, its red bricks as steady as a fortress.
I am from the brick patio lined with ferns, the huge side oak with roots equipped for playing with army men and Little People playsets, stately pecan trees full of nutty meat, watermelons every summer, raw carrots with dirt and snap beans straight off the vine.
I am from family vacations across the states and German tempers, French calm, Irish wit, and Spanish spunk from Sonnier (pronounce Soun-yay) exiled from Nova Scotia and St. Anne namesakes and patron saint.
From Mom's songs and Dad's Not to Worry!
I am from French-Roman Catholicism, Glory and Praise hymnals in the children's choir, root beer at Vacation Bible School, cough drops at CCD classes, and LaSalette Missionaries who paved the way to love of faith, family, and friends.
I'm from gumbos & fried shrimp, my mother's bread pudding, PawPaw's backyard barbecues and homemade sauce with smoke-fragranted clothes, my grandmother's tangy holiday meals and homemade pralines at Christmas time.
From Marie Osmond's Paper Roses after my grandfather's funeral, pocking Easter eggs before eating them, and playing in the back of PawPaw's pick-up truck with the cousins.
I am from Grandpa Clay who thought I was named after him whose barber shop provided glass bottled cold drinks, Granny's house where my brother and I were treated to sugar water with lemon juice squeezed in and small green bottles of Mentholatum rubs which scented the air.
I am from MawMaw's house with tomato sauce spaghetti and PawPaw's limp, "Howdy!", and red truck.
I am from the back library room on Locke Lane, portraits of albums portraying one heralded snow day, one brief, yet shining moment, rabbit ears on pig-tailed girl wearing plain brown Buster Brown shoes, birthdays, birthdays, birthdays, and family vacations; and a box with newspaper clippings of cousins who got married and new babies who extended the family story.
Don't miss the rest of the entries here.