I am from Baby Sitters Club Books, from Cabbage Patch Kids and Sassy Magazine.
I am from the spotless bungalow on the corner with petunias in the front and a dog house in the back.
I am from an undeveloped subdivision full of dirt and trees, a winding river and secret imaginary worlds.
I am from camping in the rain and doing your best with what you have, from Great Grandma Catherine and Barb and Lloyd and Grandmas Alice and Jean, Grandpas Glen and Harvey.
I am from spending, not saving, and from learning that anyone can be a member of the family, whether you share DNA with them or not.
From: "stay close to your family" and "take care of each other".
I am from singing in the church choir on Sundays, but never talking about personal beliefs or politics.
I'm from the Prairies and the Parkland. From meat and potatoes. From pirogi and holopchi from the baba down the street. From angel food cake and rice crispy treats and Grandma's rhubarb pie.
From band practice, yearbook meetings and Girl Guides. From skating lessons in the winter and swimming lessons in the summer.
I am from from the feeling of never quite fitting in. I am from rising above what others thought of me and growing stronger from their hurtful words and actions, from dark moments of loneliness and despair.
I am from a shoebox full of eyeglasses of increasing thickness. From bad perms and braces.
I am from the few moments the real me were allowed to shine through. I am from photo albums full of achievements, big and small. From a scrapbook full of merit badges and photocopied photos of happy summer camp days. From slapping mosquitos and singing silly songs around a campfire. From long drives on dusty back roads in a little red Toyota truck.
I am from the hope that things can always get better.
Dang it, Jason! This was a much harder post to write than I thought it would be. I am feeling quite exposed now.
Where are YOU from?