I am from Schwinn bikes and roller skates, from Big Wheels and Radio Flyers, from pizza bagels and toaster waffles, from Estee Lauder powder and from watching The Price is Right and playing Super Mario Bros.
I am from Clovernook Lane and from crocheted afghans and plaid couches and artwork-as-wallpaper and a giant Oldsmobile in the garage and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and the Mickey Mouse phone.
I am from lilac bushes and the old climbable tree with its big inviting branches.
I am from Football sundays and summer cookouts and ballet lessons and denim overalls and doing puzzles and afternoon baseball games. I am from Kudishes and Mintzes and Minas and Aarons and Charnas and Bertas and family names from the old country that Hitler was not able to erase.
I am from the never-say-nos and from the more stubborn than stubborns and from having friends over for big meals and big laughs.
I am from money doesn’t grow on trees and always make sure you have a proper-fitting bra and everything tastes better with real butter and you’re never fully dressed without a smile and 98 is good…but where are the other two points.
I am from Shabbat candles and freshly-baked challah and Passover seders and stars of David and dreidel spinning and lighting menorahs.
I am from cheesy Wisconsin and peachy Georgia and the old country of Poland and Germany. I am from Bubbie’s chicken noodle soup and PTA brisket and biscuits and gravy.
I am from the time we left Mr. Bear in Israel and the time the babysitter tried to convince us that she was Tom Cruise’s mother and the time we wore the Joey Jeremiah hat the millions of hours spent trying on dress after dress at the Florence Eiseman sale and the summer at the Montreal cottage with thumbless Nathan and Molly.
I am from the old shoebox filled with memories. I am from the falling-apart-at-the-seams albums that contain Polaroid snapshots of my childhood. I am from the chest filled with school pictures and teeth the tooth fairy left behind and report cards and school projects. I am from a painted portrait of my mom and my sister and me.
(I saw this over here and immediately stumbled it and fell in love and knew that I wanted to do one of very own. And you can too, using this great template. Let me know if do it, okay? I’d love to find out where you’re from.)