where I'm from

Tonight was the awe-inspiring public read-around that my writing class holds each semester. I feel so blessed to be part of that group! And I think I'll just go ahead and share the piece that I read tonight. It's an unaltered fast write that I did in class, and the form is based on a poem by George Ella Lyon.

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I am from a welcoming womb.

From a dome in the woods in Virginia.

I am from the gooseberry bushes that always took too long to ripen.

I am from the gravel path, meandering from the barn to the pond to the cottage to the mansion and back, dotted with chamomile buds.

I am from a cardboard box, with a window cut out and a crystal in the doorway.

I am from the red brick house in the center of town, with the farmer’s market bustling in the backyard each Saturday morning, and the library two doors down, the library that was always open.

I am from choose your own adventure, girls who could fly, and girls who died, keeping my mother in tears on the old red couch.

I am from the bottom row, second aisle on the right- the boxes of penny candy in the Kirkwood Pharmacy.

I am from pink sweatsuits, hand-me-downs, shimmery feathery earrings, and K-Mart boots.

I am from a nest in a tree in a storm. Falling, falling, eyes barely open, snuffling black nose, suddenly safe.

I am from a parking lot in the dark, his father’s winter studio, a car parked carelessly sideways.

I am from words written large in the sand and sung loudly into the wind.