Where I’m From

Hi there. Remember me? I’ve been a little MIA lately–for good reasons that I’ll blog about later. But here’s me breaking the silence.

HELLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

I really missed blogging. I don’t know if you missed me. I’m sure your life went on quite fine without me. But I missed you. And I can’t wait to fill you in on what’s been going on in the world of Hilljean.

For now, I’m just gonna give you this little poem I wrote up for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop. It’s actually from a template that I thought would be fun to experiment with.

I am from banana pancakes, from Jif Peanut Butter and maple syrup.

I am from the house on Shady Lane, white with green shutters, sprawling, noise that smells like laughter and wet leaves on a school day.

I am from the oak tree, moonflower, dewdrop, the sagebrush, Poppy, dust cloud.

I am from Sunday morning cinnamon rolls and ski-slope noses, from Charlotte Marguerite and Wilson and Hayes.

I am from the opinionated and passionate, the easily roused and most-heartedly won.

From brush your teeth before breakfast and your family members are your best friends and never let the sun go down on your wrath.

I am from Stand up, stand up for Jesus! From people that really did stand up for Jesus in a world where most people don’t.

I’m from San Luis Obispo, Ireland and Slovenia. Chocolate chip cookies and Tamale Pie.

From the place where my brothers killed a hundred blackbirds and where I ate rattlesnake for the first time. Where I cried to see a dead hummingbird, where I learned that Grandpa could die, the place I saw Grandma cry and the home my parents stayed married.

I am from the house on Shady Lane. The house that fills my dreams, The Good Old Creek where I planned my life, the trundle-bed where my sister slept. Five million memories—sprawled in my mind. Cluttered, messy, noisy with laughter and wet leaves.