I’m from cozy winter days and hot cocoa, bare feet on wood floors and the aroma of dinner simmering on the stove. I’m from family jokes and pet games, favorite tunes and drives around town just to enjoy the evening breeze, from never-ending games of Monopoly. I’m from producing two-man shows in the basement with my brother and riding bikes up and down our cul-de-sac. I’m from watermelon in the summer twilight, bowls of popcorn and Rocky & Bullwinkle cartoons on Saturday nights at Grandpa’s and Grandma’s house, and Pat Metheny and pancakes on Sunday mornings.
I’m from frizzy curls, knobby knees and constant chatter. I’m from twirling around in the front yard in the hot summer sun in my red plaid, wool skirt, planting crimson geraniums along the path to our front door with my dad, applying Mom’s rouge lipstick on my two-year old brother, and watching the fiery red sun set in glory outside my bedroom window. I’m from watching Rogers & Hammerstein films from my hospital bed when I was 2, Mom reading me Little House in the Big Woods while we snuggled in my canopy bed, and watching HGTV every afternoon after school. I’m from old Shirley Temple films, playing hand games and dress-up with my best friend, from Your Story Hour and Adventures in Odyssey. I’m from reading by my closet light in the middle of the night, library fines, and collecting bookmarks.
I’m from reveling in the scent of ink and paper at my dad’s job and loving the smell of antibacterial soap and Mom’s scrubs when she came from the hospital to pick me up from kindergarten. I’m from Anne of Green Gables marathons, long, rainy afternoons at the used bookstore, perusing the aisles of Hobby Lobby, and shopping sprees at the thrift stores. I’m from talking to myself in the mirror and writing novels in the shower, and pretending to be a TV talk show host.
I’m from a Capella harmonies, quartets, leading out in worship, and singing Ding Dong Merrily on High in the stairwell with the church choir. I’m from belting out Point of Grace songs in the shower, the car, my room…anywhere, really. I’m from the shiver of excitement down my back while performing with the Glenn Ellen Children’s Chorus in the orchestra pit as the Joffrey Ballet danced the Nutcracker. I’m from clammy hands at piano recitals, shaky legs while singing solos, and my name misspelled in the church bulletin. I’m from country music in the mid-west suburbs, Technicolor musical comedies, and old time radio detective shows.
I’m from journal entries, dreams that thrill my soul at night and unspoken realities, from inside jokes and awkward conversations. I’m from unanswered questions, misunderstandings, sleepless nights and dull, prosy days. I’m from trial and error, doors unopened and books that have remained on the shelf. I’m from Barbados and the Philippines, from a growing Chicagoland suburb, from bumper to bumper traffic to the city. I’m from a loving, quirky family and a wonderfully close knit circle of friends. I’m from priceless memories and recollections that will forever haunt me.
I’m from a God who thought I was worth the time to hand-craft, from a Creator who knew the depths of my heart before there was a heaven or an earth. I’m from the Almighty whose blessings are both seen and unnoticed, whose love is everlasting, whose majesty is unsurpassed, and whose long suffering will be forever be a mystery to me.
I’m from a past that was as sweet as it was challenging,
I’m from a past that was far from perfect but everything I needed.
I’m from a past that holds in it the promise of a beautiful future.
Where are you from?
(This post was inspired by Country Girl and Jillian)
Originally posted on Unscripted on 10.5.2012