"Where I'm From"

I am from long, twisting roads and wind in my hair;

From Christie’s cookies and milk on cold winter days.

I am from a broken-home, light bulbs dull,

Tension around every corner, and smelling like lemon and wood.

I am from drooping sunflowers and hopeful daisies;

From raspberry bushes and tall mountainous figures.

I am from coloured Easter eggs and high hopes;

From Hodgsons and Christies, grammas and papas.

I am from stubbornness and grudge holders;

From ‘suck-it-up’ and ‘get-over-it’.

I am from a lack of faith, I believe our loved ones may be

Looking down on us, guiding and protecting us.

I'm from my mother, granddaughter of Chris Christie; 

From nights filled with cold cereal and warm milk. 

From snow-covered hills and my papa’s laughter, from tobogganing to skating; 

The outgoing and stubbornness from him and my gramma, I have them to thank it for.

I am from photo albums, locked away in hidden boxes;

We can't see them until the passing of my gramma and papa; 

I hope I will never get to see the photo albums.

The amount of work that's gone into them is priceless;

Every moment has been documented

As a single, precious moment.

Those moments fill all of the forgotten memories;

These photo albums are priceless to me.

Sydney Dahl