I Am From

Mella gave me the idea, and Floyd gave me the template.

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I am from the baby cereal crunching under my slippers, the teething rings in the dish rack, and the sexy underwear rarely worn.

I am from the heart shaped paperweight given to my husband from my baby sister when we feared he was dying. From the iBook that holds my stories and the well worn, well washed, well loved Wedding Quilt.

I am from the daisies he picked for me the night we met and the lilac bushes out back.

I am from reading in the wee hours before school and red hair, from Norma Carlson and Eltrice Bentley and Margaret Young.

I am from the Depressed and the Intuitive.

From Jesus Loves Me and so does Dad.

I am from a God that loves all, regardless of the kind of life we have lived. A God who forgives all, and forgets. A God who has not given us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, of love, and of a sound mind.

I'm from Worcester and Sweden and Finland and Scotland, salmon on Christmas Eve and thick, dark beer.

From the old man who played for the Red Sox farm team, from his granddaughters who know more about baseball than anyone else, and who have kissed Steven Tyler.

I am from snapshots of infants, of children, of college students, brides and grooms all over the walls, notebooks filled with half finished thoughts and lists of life wishes spilling out the shelves and books stacked higher than we can reach, up to the ceiling.