I recently came across a writing prompt, and decided to give it a try. It was a great exercise, and brought me a lot of joy remembering my childhood. Here’s a link to the template if you want to try it yourself. If you do try this, please come back and post a comment and link to your blog. I’d love to read it. You might also enjoy A Pink Daisy Life’s try at this. Thanks Heatherly for sharing your story.
I am from LPs, 45s, American Bandstand on Saturday morning and KRIZ’s top 20. From Dr. Pepper in glass bottles, Tab and Chef Boyardee pizza. I’m from macaroni and cheese when Mom made fish, and the library every two weeks.
I am from blistering long summers, sunburned shoulders, tippy toes bloody from the bottoms of swimming pools, sweaty nights playing hide and seek, and swamp-cooler days with sticky shirts.
I am from the smell of pipe smoke, red pencils, graded papers, Book-of-the-Month Club and classical music. I am from popcorn exploding in a frying pan at night, the metallic pop of a cold Pepsi can as it’s opened, and dancing fizz as it’s poured over ice.
I am from itchy Bermuda grass, lantana and olive trees that create more mess on the ground than pigeons. From the smell of chlorine in hair, the dusty smell of rain on hot pavement, and Bullet-colored sunsets.
I am from dinner at home every night at 5:30 and washing the dishes by hand, from Owens and Rowland and Sinclair and Cleveland. I am from bedtime stories from the My Bookhouse books.
I am from house work on Saturday, moving the sprinkler on the grass, reading for pleasure, layaway purchases, and white short affordable boots when I wanted long black go-go boots.
From “It will never be noticed on a galloping horse” and “Finish your plate before you get up from the table.”
I am from church every week, a faithful mother taking two little girls alone, Sunday School teachers who were always there. From memorizing the 23rd Psalm and receiving a glow-in-the-dark cross that sat by my bed until it fell apart. From hymns of the saints of old, litanies, the Lord’s Prayer, the Apostle’s Creed, organ and piano duets and a choir dressed in blue robes.
I’m from Phoenix and yet somehow the rolling meadows of Wales and the hills of Scotland run through my veins. From tea with milk at dinner every night, enchiladas and trying every summer to like watermelon.
From mud pies made at Grandma’s and “sold” to her neighbors; day trips to Oak Creek Canyon; a coffee, danish and pipe stop on the way for Dad; and Archie comic books in the backseat of the station wagon with Lizzie.
I’m from strong women. Women who raised children as widows, taught school in the early days of Texas, served in the Richmond steel yards to help with the War effort, drove school buses because they had to, and sacrificed for their families in big and little ways.
I am from birthday pictures on slides, the Welsh box on the hearth, embroidery hoops, Beatrix Potter figurines, highland plaids, DAR certificates, ASU clocks, and turquoise jewelry.
I am from faithful, dependable, resourceful, loved.
Where are you from? Post your story on your blog, then a comment here with a link.
In His Love,