I am from bunkbeds, lemonade stands and yard sales, and WonderWorks.
I am from the brown shaggy carpet, a 3-bedroom brick house with 8 people in it.
I am from the smell of white gardenias, the slippery chill of aloe vera plants on sunburns.
I am from weekly trips to the library and easy smiles, from Robert and Mary, navy SEALs, readers, home birthers.
I am from itchy noses and long legs and Boggle champions.
From “say, yes Ma’am” and “may I be excused from the table?” and “butt is a bad word.”
I am from Christ-seekers. Swaying to music, lifting your hands up high.
I am from Tucson sunsets and Norwegian accents, cranberry salad and oatmeal fudge and pizza on Friday nights.
From “you can’t date until you’re 16.” From “The Pledge of Allegiance” (with hands over heart) every morning.
I am from climbing up to sit on the roof at night, playing soccer beginning at age 5, and walking down Orange Avenue every summer in Coronado.
I am from kids-are-a-blessing and doctors-don’t-know-everything and you-are-loved.
Where are you from?