I AM FROM ...

I am from propane tanks, from fresh milk and cream.  I am from the open outdoors.


I am from the bending willows, from the rolling hills and the abandoned farm house.

I am from liver and onions.  I am from honey off the comb, miniature train sets and exploration.


I am from the cacti, the milkweed, the bullsnake and the corn on the cob.


I am from fireplaces, raising chickens and stubbornness.  From the Cornelius branch and the Smith roots and the Desler tree.


I am from the adventurous and the calm.  I am from the dirt, the land, the created.  I am from the artistic, imaginative, carefree and uninhibited.


I am from 'you will always be good enough' and 'don't stop trying'.

From not understanding why he left.

I am from Christianity and reading Luke Chapter 2 on Christmas Eve.  I am from Sunday mornings and communion.  I am from Wednesday night awana and youth group.  I am from contributing my musical piece during the offering.

I'm from the center of America and from Danish, German, African, Cherokee, graham crackers, puppy chow, genealogy and the family tree.

I am from bells ringing in supper time to collecting dinner from our garden.

I am from sarcastic tongues and experiments and learning lessons that go on too long.

I am from camping under the stars and traveling across the states with them.

I am from the HE that worked magic with electronics and from the HER that worked magic with cross stitch, rice/sugar and seedlings. I am better because of them.


I am from the raw eggs in the eggnog to who started the fire and why.  From the rooster to the treehouse.  From the farmhouse escapade to the cross country skiing.

I am from saying my goodbyes in the wheel well of the Scout.  I am from waterbeds and heat that comes from the floor.  From cat scratches, wet dog snouts and a sense of wanting more.


I am from cottonwoods and sun tea.  I am from home learning and home growing. I am from effort, motivation, continuity and love.

I am from HER insistence that once you leave, you are strong enough to not go back.

I am from willing myself to prove that I deserve to have a place.

I am from pride.  I am from history.  I am from lace wedding dresses, artful memories of before the accident and praying before every meal.

I am from weeping willows, train yards, curly hair, mixed backgrounds, photographs and greased pig races.


I am.

First read from Mary (fellow Nebraskan) on her blog ... originally posted HERE .. but maybe originally-originally posted HERE?

I would highly encourage you to write your own "I am from" post.  Take your time.  Savor the prompts a bit ... it was meaningful (and a surprise!) for me.