I am from peace and quiet, from Old English to polish the antique furniture and line-dried clothes, lovingly hung with wooden clothespins.
I am from a dirt road, where grass grows long, sticks crack under your feet as you walk and the scent of burning leaves fill the air.
I am from the lilac bush, the sweet smell returning each spring to glass vases scattered throughout the house.
I am from a fort built in an old Oak tree, with smiling Irish eyes and red-tinted hair, from Margaret and Theodore and Esther and Otto.
I am from optimists who dream big and realists who stand grounded; from opinionated women and physically strong men.
From move it or lose it and treat others how you want to be treated.
I am from misguided religion, just mind your manners, say your prayers and sing along. How great thou art…
I am from Detroit, by way of the Mayflower and traveling boats from Ireland and Greece. I am from Spam with potato pancakes and chicken with Bisquick dumplings.
From the labor of my restaurant-owning great grandfather to my great aunt, kept warm in a shoebox in the oven as a baby, to my grandmother playing an old hymn on the organ.
I am from an old red trunk in the basement, full of photo albums and memories and the smell of old books. I am from the hearts of confident, middleclass people. And for all this, I am grateful to be where I’m from.
I’m starting to explore creative writing a bit more lately, so when I saw Mama Kat’s “Where I’m From” prompt, I knew I wanted to give it a shot. See the template I followed here and give it a shot as well!
What scents, imagery or people remind you of your roots?