For months, I’ve been working on my version of “Where I’m From”. I hadn’t been able to get it quite right, and I’m not sure I have even now, but I’m finally willing to share it. Any feedback would be appreciated.
Where I’m From
I’m from the country,
shellin’ peas on the front porch swing,
listening to Mamaw and Grandaddy spin stories,
the smell of warm banana puddin’ wafting out of the kitchen.
I’m from pecan trees big enough to climb,
whose branches held the promise of adventure.
I’m from stayin’ out ’til dark,
and bedtime stories with one Poky Little Puppy.
I’m from cousins who are best friends
and grandmas who are secret keepers.
From yes ma’ams and no sirs,
from spankings and “Go to your room!”
I’m from playhouses and slumber parties,
passing notes and whispering secrets.
From Sesame Street and Reading Rainbow,
Punky Brewster and Bill Nye.
I’m from Trapper Keepers and spelling bees,
from school cafeterias that smelled like PB & J.
I’m from pick-up trucks caked with mud,
Aggie bonfires and cross-town rivalries.
From Carebears and My Little Ponies,
from first kisses and broken hearts.
I am from those moments–
growing up in a small town–
destined to see the world.