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