I am from a cigarette stub, Dumaurier and ashes.
I am from the house whose front outside light came on because it was time to come home, playing, happy , to the unfinished smell of sawdust.
I am from the lilacs and sweet grass braided into a cross.
I am from the trips to powwows and Sunday masses, with gloves and white hats.
I am from the freedom of small town walks and bikerides, from quiet independent men and hard working women.
From don't eat too fast and don't eat too slow.
I am from those that held fast to what they were told, instructed well, too well.
I'm from the prairies, Ukrainian and Indian, from perogies and bannock.
From a homesteading couple that were hailed out and from another two, that were stolen a Native heritage. From a man, my Father, who farmed his dream.
I am from envelopes of inherited pictures, clippings and a souvenir tan and yellow lighter, a life.
I heard about this from Colleen. This is from a poem template that a friend of Fred of Fragments from Floyd used in a writing class. It is based on a poem by George Ella Lyons. It is a great writing exercise, so have fun and let me know if you do this and I will link to you here.