I am from rich black soil, homemade raspberry jam, baseball after school, apple fritters, spaghetti o’s and Beagles.
I am from the warmth of wood burning fireplaces, smoky, crisp air in the fall, dirt roads and a house on a hill. I am from walks in the woods along well worn paths.
I am from Grandma’s lilies of the valley and screened-in porch, Easter hyacinths and Mayflowers for mommy in the springtime. From bacon and egg sandwiches on Sunday, crumb buns and poppy seed cake.
I am from fragrant cedars and piles of presents in December and sleepovers on floor mats after pumpkin pie in November. I am from hardworking and strong. From loud laughers who all talk at once, generous and devout. From the Wittmans and Okkers, McCormicks and Kerteszes.
I am from the lovers of home, clotheslines and fresh ironed sheets. I am from strong women. Margarets and Martha. Good men. Richard, George and Cornelius.
From “you can be anything you want to be” and learning times tables at the kitchen table. I am from summers knowing I belong with hot tea and bologna sandwiches on Garret Drive.
I am from church on Sunday mornings and reading the funnies. From looking at pictures in the big Bible on Dad’s bedside table. I am from finally seeking and finding.
I'm a country girl from Jersey, Hungary, Scotland and Holland.
From the starry-eyed and committed high school sweethearts who went to a dance and raised a family faithfully with wild and pleasant sandy beach vacations without a dime left over.
I am from pictures and albums in the attic at the top of the stairs, diaries and journals. Treasures of enormous worth.