Where I'm From

I wrote this poem for The Luscious Legacy Project, a workshop led by Sue Ann Gleason. Our first prompt was to write our own “Where I’m From” based on this poem by George Ella Lyon. Here is mine.

I’m from two houses, one home. From long plane rides with plastic wings pinned to my shirt and tear-soaked jetways.

I’m from a white nurse’s cap and shoulder pads, carrying conversations to avoid awkward silences.

I’m from no store-bought rolls. From carefully peeling roasted chestnuts for Thanksgiving stuffing and spoonful after spoonful of raw chocolate chip cookie dough.

From a doughy tummy and womanly hips.

I’m from Bob’s Big Boy and a Buster Bar from Dairy Queen. Green grapes, not red, and maple-glazed walnut croissants.

I’m from squishy, warm cinnamon sugar donuts from the cider mill in town on a bluest blue, clear sky, Fall day.

I’m from peeling birch trees, twirling maple seeds and a looming evergreen blocking the view in through the large picture window.

I’m from plumes of cigarette smoke and the comforting hum of the blow dryer in the morning. And bathrobes, hairspray, curling irons, and eyelash separators.

I’m from never depend on a man, only on yourself, and your children are only loaned to you.

I’m from grudges and lackluster Swedish hugs.

From things will be better in the morning.

I’m from when your father left us to when I left her.

I’m from the reality that her hoofbeats were zebras, not horses. Cancer, not kidney stones. I’m from when she left me.