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I am from the trailer park with multiple add ons with potatoes in the musty dirt cellar.

I am from the lilac bushes and fall gladiolas and sweet pea climbing fences.

The white birch tree whose long gone limbs I remember as my own.

I’m from sunday dinners with guests, from mechanics and gardeners and renovators of all things old, from Percy, Aneta, Vivian and Don, Rosemary, Dale, Ann, Allen and Ella.

I’m from summer camping trips and canning peaches for winter and crocheting by the fireplace.

I’m from get good grades and never stop playing the piano and monday, tuesday Happy days.

I’m from hide and seek in the dark farm yard while the boring adults drink coffee.

I’m from Cutknife and the prairies and the battleground of indigenous and salty Manitou Lake and matrimonial cake.

I’m from wheat fields listening to northern lights in the inky sky and climbing into the orange pickup and never forgetting that cold winter night.

I’m from playing Amy Grant tapes on my stereo by my bed and reading about orphan Anne with an ‘e’, praying I could find my Gilbert.

Linking up with the sheloves magazine today.

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