Renee, from http://lifeintheboomerlane.wordpress.com/, inspired me so with her post about her parents and their beginnings and journey. I decided to do my own. I’d love to see/hear yours, too.
I am from loud family dinners. I am from a perpetually pregnant mother and a seemingly endless stream of younger siblings. I am from 2 fathers – the absent one I fantasized about; and the abusive one who headed my family instead.
I am from fluffy barn kittens and the velvety softness of horses’ noses; and calves with rough hides and sand-papery tongues. I am from hayfields and tractors, grain and manure. I am from endless days spent in the garden or in the kitchen canning and freezing food that wouldn’t last long enough. I am from a ramshackle farmhouse, sleeping in a bedroom frigid in the winter, sweltering in the summer.
I am from drifted snow and fire-fly lit summer nights. I am from spring crocuses poking through the snow and fiery fall colors.
I am from yellow school buses. I am from hand-me down clothes and shoes and the shame of being poor. I am from a teenage marriage that was supposed to deliver me from the drudgery and abuse; but which could not, and did not, fulfill the promise.
I am from the beeping of monitors and the call lights of patients entrusted to my care. I am from touch and caring, relief of pain and easing of worries. I am from their gratitude and hugs. I am from prayers at their bedside and tears at their passing.
I am now from palm trees and sunshine; surrounded by the beauty of crinkled faces and lives mostly lived out.
I am from words spilling out and words kept inside.
I am from tremendous gratitude and endless hope. I am from forgiveness and letting go of the pain, and holding onto the comfort. I am from peace.