I am from ‘Dairy land” in Artesia, from a classic 60’s style tract house, from Saturdays of pulling weeds and rocket ship to the moon sheets, and cow tongue sandwiches.
I am from Sycamore tree leaves piled high in the back yard, and 3 tiered rose beds and Concord grape vines. I am from fearlessly riding the waves at Bolsa Chica beach and climbing crushed shell sand mountains back to our blanket holding tight to daddy’s hand; sisters closing our eyes in bed at night and feeling the waves all over again.
I am from duckies on the service porch and bunny hutches in the yard. From a beloved pet turkey and soft, sweet poodle doggies. I am from blanket and clothespin tents in the yard and playing ‘I spy’; giggling under the covers at night until the stern “knock it off” came calling down the hall.
I am from canning fruits, jellies and relish. From my beloved Dad and Mom. From picking and eating sweet, warm apricots every summer until our tummies were full to bursting; from tent camping, “birdies have to have some pancakes” and “just slush and flush”, and little round balls in the bottom of warm milk.
I am from diligent, hard workers. Skillful hands fixing our car on Saturdays, teaching me to change my oil and lube. From doing whatever it takes. From “keep your chin up” to “see you in the funny papers” and “keep ur nose clean”. From the smell of new mown lawn on faces buried in a clean, white T-shirt; crisp white linen hankies always available; “is there kee kee in ur bellybutton?”
From “Quit ur bellyaching” and “Quit clowning around” and “I love you’s” and menu night. From standing on a box, learning to iron napkins and pillow cases at the age of six. From sewing and knitting, from the sounds of “2 crack” and “3 bam” at naptime; cottage cheese and pineapple. From puttering in the house to tinkering in a garage clean enough to eat off of the floor.
I am from the Hecht Clan. German blood flows through my veins, with a touch of Scottish. I am from Granny B’s giant gingerbread house, homemade dresses, lovingly hand knitted sweaters and crocheted afghans. I am from cinnamon rolls to die for and good farm cooking. From pancakes with gravy, hot dogs with mashed potatoes on top. From Dalihas proudly grown.
From a generation that survived the dust bowl and wars and the depression.
I am from a home with steadfast love. I am from a dark battle – won – lost – and won again. From Life Abundant. From “I have come to give you a Life and a Future”. From “Is there dust upon your Bible” to “The Old Rugged Cross”; roaring fires in the fireplace and endless games of crazy 8’s.
I am from black and white photos, lovingly retouched with color and from suspenders snapped. From memories recalled and whispered between sisters. From recipes handed down and treasured. From dog piling on Dad. I am from Eternity, where my story has always been known and my days recorded before even one of them came to be.
Where are you from?
