So it’s summer and I am ready to relax, kick up my feet, read a book, take a midday nap, and tackle a few projects I never get around to doing in the school year.
But this summer my heart and soul wanted nothing more than to come home, to my original home, on this first full week of break. So that’s what we did. Me and the kiddos packed up and made the four hour trek to the mountains of West Virginia.
My home is nothing fancy but it is breathed from the hard work of two loving people who dreamed something bigger than they’d ever had into existence. It is where I can still go and feel the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders as I breathe in cool mountain air and exhale all my cares back into the thick of the woods.
So I love the “Where I’m from” poems. I am a complete sucker for them. They tug at my heart and make me reminisce. In honor of those sweet words I love to read, I’ll leave you with mine:
Where I’m from…by Annalee Peters
I am from green carpet and a record player that lulled me to sleep at night.
From electric blankets in the winter and water hose drinks on a hot summer day.
I am from the house on a hill, that was under construction, always changing, smelling of dinner and mom’s lotion.
I am from the Maple tree, towering beside the fence in our front yard.
I am from Christmas morning feasts and an old Gibson guitar, always strumming a song.
From Jeff and Sandy.
I’m from prayers around the dinner table and “Tell me all about your day.”
From a coal miner’s lunch bucket and a lot of hard work.
I’m from “Jesus loves the little children” and Sunday school flannel board stories.
I’m from the hills of West Virginia, brown beans, fried potatoes and cornbread.
From the lonely train ride of a 16-year-old girl to marry her 32-year-old fiancé in a courthouse in Texas.
From the hand-picked flowers at a wedding celebration on a warm August day-wilted but kept, a story that I will pass on to my children.
Here is a link for you to write your own poem. Enjoy!!