DAY 23 - WHERE I'M FROM

 

WHERE I'M FROM [23]

Child of the fifties, 

I'm from the land of sky-blue-waters,

only daughter in a family of sons,

the one who never quite fit in.

I am the descendant of a German

grandmother I never knew and

a Polish grandma I adored.

I am from a house on a lake

sheltered by ancient oaks and elms.

I'm from a country church hemmed by

a patchwork quilt of pastures and cornfields,

the non-believer with the Catholic upbringing

singing hymns on Sunday mornings, eating 

doughnuts in the church basement after mass.

I'm from black and white TV, Laurel & Hardy

and Ed Sullivan, Little House on the Prairie books,

walking barefoot down dirt roads and warm

chocolate chip cookies in our red kitchen.

I’m from peonies blooming at the back door,

two blue canoes and a rowboat, a dog named Sam

and Bridal Wreath cascading behind the garage.

I am from the pink bedroom with organdy curtains

and checkered wallpaper; I'm from pigtails with ribbons.

And I am from Dad at the end of a long day, listening

to Halsey Hall broadcast the ball game on 'CCO radio,

Mother darning socks in the chair next to him,

little puddles of condensation from her iced tea 

glass collecting on the formica tabletop, 

sitting side by side together, 

Father loving Mother his whole life long.