I am from the winter wonderland of the North; from biscuits and gravy, Cheerios and alcohol-free Pink Flamingos, with delicious strawberries.
From the man who never denied a soul in need, the man who gave everything his all and a family who never took life for granted.
I am from bat-infested attics and gardens blooming brilliantly before the breath of winter.
I am from Lilacs and Tulips, arrays of color and apple trees.
From secret spy clubs with childhood friends and a yearning to learn.
I am from home-made quilts with love in the stitches, from well-loved books with the corners bent.
I am from yearly Lion’s club reunions and family I hardly know but love, from family fishing trips in the frozen north, from a dedication to a carefree attitude, from Gary and Suzy, from Larry and Phoebe, from the Harper and the Thomas trees.
I am from the family who never says die, and the minds who never quit on their dreams even when life seemed domineering.
I am from a fractured faith, from the philosophy of a father, the belief of a mother, the church that never seemed prominent, the beliefs that never seemed relevant.
I am from stories scribbled on scraps of paper, pictures stuffed into countless, vibrant landscapes, and all-too common moments when we remind ourselves of who came before.
So my dad comes to me this morning, and tells me that he has a writing prompt for me. Who knew that it would keep me writing for over two hours? You know, we never realize who we are, or where we are from, until we sit down and really think about our roots, our family, and what makes us us. And now that I think about it, it truly makes me sad that more people don’t spend time to remember their roots.
I hereby challenge you to write a poem of your own, to discover where you are from. The template can be found here: Where are You From?
What makes me? I knew little before I sat down to write this, and now, I know just a little bit more. And that makes all the difference.