Where I am from:
I am from an art easel with paint, pastel and charcoal, from mason jars filled with grains, home-made grape-nuts, and the fresh smell of dad’s morning coffee.
I am from beautiful pastures, green trees and dirt roads, from sounds of goats, and chickens calling for breakfast.
I am from cilantro and basil; from beautiful mountains and sunsets on the ocean.
I am from road-trips to see family, friends, and places, and staying up the whole night before in anticipation.
I am from quiet evenings outside under the stars, and inside sounds of chaos and kids dividing the last of the cookies, from family rosary with sleeping children and piggy-backs to bed.
From special window messages to a friend, and shared dreams and schemes whispered after “lights out girls”.
I am from the beautiful Catholic Tradition passed to me through my parents, the Church, and all the saints, from our Dear Lord who visits me daily in the Eucharist.
I am from the backcountry of San Francisco, an Island of Canada, and Ireland, from Spaghetti and Banana splits.
I am from a Granddad who used white wine and coffee as car coolant out of desperation when the engine overheated on the way to my parents wedding, and an uncle who cooked gourmet meals on-the-go for the whole crew in the loaded van.
I am from home-videos stashed in the boxcar, tons of slideshows on the computer, and dusty photo albums in the workshop waiting to be opened.
I am from an art easel with paint, pastel and charcoal, from mason jars filled with grains, home-made grape-nuts, and the fresh smell of dad’s morning coffee.
I am from beautiful pastures, green trees and dirt roads, from sounds of goats, and chickens calling for breakfast.
I am from cilantro and basil; from beautiful mountains and sunsets on the ocean.
I am from road-trips to see family, friends, and places, and staying up the whole night before in anticipation.
I am from quiet evenings outside under the stars, and inside sounds of chaos and kids dividing the last of the cookies, from family rosary with sleeping children and piggy-backs to bed.
From special window messages to a friend, and shared dreams and schemes whispered after “lights out girls”.
I am from the beautiful Catholic Tradition passed to me through my parents, the Church, and all the saints, from our Dear Lord who visits me daily in the Eucharist.
I am from the backcountry of San Francisco, an Island of Canada, and Ireland, from Spaghetti and Banana splits.
I am from a Granddad who used white wine and coffee as car coolant out of desperation when the engine overheated on the way to my parents wedding, and an uncle who cooked gourmet meals on-the-go for the whole crew in the loaded van.
I am from home-videos stashed in the boxcar, tons of slideshows on the computer, and dusty photo albums in the workshop waiting to be opened.
4 comments:
I like it MK! As a witness to the car coolant episode, I would like to testify that it was a jug of white wine (to go along with those gourmet meals at the rest stops)and not champagne that was used as coolant in that emergency situation. I still recall the smell, ugh, but also the taste of the fabulous food!
Oooh. I just remembered one more thing. It wasn't just a jug of wine. There was also a thermos of coffee. We had to put both of the in. Yuck! But it worked. We were in the mountains of New Mexico (I think) and it was the middle of the night so we didn't have a lot of options.
Thanks! I thought about calling you on this one while it was in the works ... A little editing should do the job ;-)
I always love those kinds of questions. :) The update looks great.
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