I wrote this poem for The Luscious Legacy Project, a workshop led by Sue Ann Gleason that I’m participating in. Our first prompt was to write our own “Where I’m From” based on this poem by George Ella Lyon. Here is mine.

 
I’m from two houses, one home.
From long plane rides with plastic wings
pinned to my shirt
and tear-soaked jetways.

I’m from a white nurse’s cap
and shoulder pads,
carrying conversations
to avoid awkward silences.

I’m from no store-bought rolls.
From carefully peeling roasted chestnuts
for Thanksgiving stuffing
and spoonful after spoonful of
raw chocolate chip cookie dough.

From a doughy tummy and womanly hips.

I’m from Bob’s Big Boy and
a Buster Bar from Dairy Queen.
Green grapes, not red,
and maple-glazed walnut croissants.
I’m from squishy, warm cinnamon sugar donuts
from the cider mill in town
on a bluest blue, clear sky, Fall day.

I’m from peeling birch trees,
twirling maple seeds
and a looming evergreen
blocking the view in through the
large picture window.

I’m from plumes of cigarette smoke and
the comforting hum of the blow dryer in the morning.
And bathrobes, hairspray,
curling irons, and eyelash separators.

I’m from never depend on a man,
only on yourself,
and your children are only loaned to you.

I’m from grudges and lackluster Swedish hugs.

From things will be better in the morning.

I’m from when your father left us
to when I left her.

I’m from the reality that her hoofbeats
were zebras, not horses.
Cancer, not kidney stones.
I’m from when she left me.