Where I’m From

I am from red pens and Bic and Papermates
I’m from messy, noisy, crowded, lively regions of Yellow Point

I am from daffodils and crocuses
I’m from Sunday dinners and clumsy klutziness, and from Irene and Grampa and Gay

I am from the guilt-ridden and the peace-making, the rebellious and the bitchy
From a drop of Gypsy Princess blood and learn something new every day

I am from white cotton gloves for Sunday school and crinolines and little black patent leather shoes all shiny and bright

I’m from Cranbrook and Nova Scotia and Scotland, mashed potatoes and gravy, sliced raw cabbage on the kitchen counter

I’m from dur-lunt dur-lunt my sister’s non-stop chatter, the laughter and glow of smiling family faces, from the Hollywood walk of another sister trying to make it in time to pee, our mother saving her booty

I’m from a dusty box of old photos, many dog-eared and falling apart picture albums, the so small handprints of young children in a rainbow of colours laid carefully away

I’m from websites with no passwords, containing Picasa albums I can’t view and who knows what old memories

From DVDs recorded from old VHS tapes with shakey home movies of small beautiful girls performing the Dance of the Seven Veils.

I’m from lost moments recalled and lost again, savoured and flavoured with love
This is where I’m from

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Author: lyndaladret

Discovered writing stories and poems through Outlander and encouragement from Sam Heughan's MPC2016 program. My new hobby is photography! check out MPC2017.com to join the #BestGroupEver

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