Where I’m From

Published in Move Me Poetry

WHAT’S A HOOSIER ANYWAY?!

Where I’m From

The Land Where You Grew Up Remains Forever as Home

I’m from the middle of the country. Born in the middle of the century.
I’m from long straight roads. Farms with rows of corn as far as you can see.
I’m from houses with basements to hide from tornadoes.
From Sunday dinner after church at Grandma’s house:
Flaky, fluffy biscuits, rhubarb pie, and peach butter jam.

Empty Ball jars stacked in the garage, next to snow shovels.
I’m from crocuses, lilacs and tulips; flowers that come in the spring.
I’m from trees that turn colors and drop their leaves…
Bare branches silhouetted against grey winter sky.
Old oaks with limbs to hold you.
I’m from penny candy, back porch haircuts. Cokes in bottles.
From winters so cold they crack.
Ice storms, tree branches glistening like jewelry store windows.
When all adults were Mr. or Mrs. We said: “yes please” or “no thank you.”
I’m from solid, salt-of- the earth people.
Grandparents and parents born in the same county.
A time when people were born at home and died there too
When death was part of life.
I’m from hot apple crisp, chicken and dumplings.
With stern looking grandparents.
Parades on Main Street, American flags flying.
I’m from few choices: Chevy or Ford? Chocolate or vanilla?
Warm lakes. Fireflies in glass jars. Window fans.
Dick, Jane and Sally. Hop-scotch and four square at recess.
Men in white shirts, who tipped their hats,
And stood when a lady entered the room.
I’m from dial phones that hung up with a final satisfying click.
I’m from roller skates clipped onto Keds and metal skate keys.
Kick the can on hot summer nights.
Dinner bells at dusk; neighborhood children scattering home.
I’m from a pretty long time ago.