A mad/lib type meme from this template after reading Madeline's poem first.
I am from guitars, from Jello instant pudding and a yellow kitchen.
I am from the old adobe house at the lower end of Petra Lane...brown, rounded, cool to the touch.
I am from the apple trees, lilacs and rocks; the alfalfa, irises and sunsets.
I am from singing and talking, from Mary Lou Hathcock and Yates and Adams.
I am from the planting and the sharing.
From "We love you" and "Get your nose out of that book."
I am from hymn singing and no bad-words, from "women don't cut their hair," and "only savages poke holes in their bodies."
I'm from Texas and Texans (though I was by some fluke born in Georgia), from biscuits and gravy.
From the cotton picker's daughter who cared for her younger brothers in the shade of the wagon, the fried potatoes taken to school for lunch, and the fifteen year old Rotan boy who went to San Francisco to work in the shipyards early in WWII, and rode his motorcycle home to get his parents' signatures, to enlist at seventeen.
I am from cigar boxes and shoeboxes of saved papers with images of faces and words remembered and forgotten.
Okay. that was depressing.
It's not where I am now!