I am from roller skates, from Paul Mitchell products, and swimming pool green hair.
I am from the wood stove warm, pine-burning smell, have-to-open-the-window in December hot house.
I am from the maple tree shade, the dahlias buzzing with bees, the green grass tall enough to hide in, from smooth water running over pebbles and whistles to come home for dinner.
I am from clam digging at dawn and blue eyes, from Myrna Margaret and Jesse and Strand family picnics.
I am from being outside all day in nature and from always having music on inside, without any words either one.
From skipping over the sidewalk cracks and never swallowing watermelon seeds.
I am from hard wooden pews, front rows where the preachers picked on you, and ice cream in the basement after Sunday evening services. From memorizing verses for Wednesday nights and full immersions on Sunday mornings.
I'm from the Pacific Northwest, rivers and trees, and more rain than you can catch, and Northern Europe. From homemade pizza and Lutefisk.
From the Frenchman who hauled bricks and peeled potatoes on his way to America at 17, the practical jokes played by boys on their mother and each other, and the little brother who was never afraid of anything.
I am from the attic full of treasures, scrapbooks stored in old Navy trunks next to letters from war. And from one bookcase at the end of the hall overflowing with old yellowed pages, the pictorial history of life.
Many thanks to Jennifer for finally leaving the link to the template for this fun meme.