I Am From: My Grandmother

In which Carrie writes an I Am From poem in the voice of her mother’s mother, Grandma…

I Am From

: the red head of my grandfather Gordon.

: liver and onions, and wheatened cinnamon rolls.

: hand-sewn skirts and initialed kerchiefs.

: the twenties, the thirties, the nineties and on.

I am from the back of my favorite horse

who I rode,

with the boys,

all of us five, me the only girl.

I am from my sister, my mother

who I still call Mother even though she is gone from me, in a way.

: Boring, Estacada, Sisters, Nehalem:  I am not from a small town.

I am the small town: Rural.  Tree-lined. Transparent. Neighborly.

: my husband, my children, my girls.

: the whirring wheels of my old Raleigh bicycle.

: where re-use, recycle was everyday practice, not a movement.

I am from a cocoon: my grandchildren always will think of me in a Monarch’s flight.

I am from the giggle of my young great grandchildren who I impart tribunal forced marches in the lovely place we live:

from which we enjoy and pass on to them.

I am from the library, the Cascades Range, the schoolhouse, Time.

I am Lois

By Carrie Anne Ebner


One response to “I Am From: My Grandmother

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