There is a poem by George Ella Lyon called “Where I’m From.” Frequently, it is reinterpreted by bloggers, students and fans all around the world. This is my version and, if you make one of your own, I would love to see it!
Where I’m From
I am from stilettos, from chocolate peanut butter ice cream and guilty pleasure yoga pants.
I am from the glorified sardine can house, warm, passionate, smelling of babies, spices and meals much enjoyed.
I am from coconut oil, the yard garden, the Canadian autumns and rejuvenating summer sunshine.
I am from Christmas celebrated on Christmas Eve and green eyes with gray rings, from Gramma and Poppy, McCollum, Keast and Graves. Quick to laugh, quicker to argue, soon to smooth it over.
I am from the distant, yet still connected.
From your left hand goes with your left foot and your right hand goes with your right foot, and from you stop, drop and roll…in case of bears.
I am from the believers but not the faithful. The past church goers and current, wannabe preachers.
I’m from Niagara and England, eggs Benedict at 2am and the best, softest chocolate chip cookies ever made.
From the man who watches TV through closed eyelids, the best that pass too soon and the grandfather whose humour and rooftop serenades survive even death.
I am from Gramma’s attic, the High Church in England, the large dispersion of cousins and our little, happy home. These roots have helped me grow.