Every time I read through this assignment I continue to struggle. Where do I come from? Who are my “people”? To tell you the truth, I’m not sure how to answer these questions? So, in a hereditary sense I have English, Irish, Scottish and Welsh roots, but do I call them my “people”? No, not really. I’m American. I’m also a wife, mother, daughter, sister, teacher, a native New Yorker (not from the City!). I think all of these define me and who I’ve become. I guess these are my “people”. I don’t believe that I need to know where I’m from to help me where I’m going. Do any of us really know where we’re going? What life has in store for us? With all that being said here’s what I came up with as my I am poem–it’s a start, let me know what you think!
I am from hot dogs, from Hoffman’s and New England style rolls.
I am from the giant sledding hill that takes you through the hedgerow.
I am from maple trees, the big rock in the front yard we used for pitchers mound.
I am from breakfast for dinner on the first snowfall and red hair from Rita and Linda.
I am from the “can’t sit stills” and the “duck walkers”.
From “Go run around the circle” and “KRISTIN MARIE!!!”
I am from First Communion, First Confession and Confirmation and the loads of guilt that comes with it.
I’m from Central New York and Europeans, corned-beef and cabbage.
From the lens of Grandpa Henry’s camera, the darkroom in his cellar and the freckles from my father.
I am from the big blue box filled with memories, the pictures never put into frames and stories that bring back smiles and tears.
So, I’m not sure I’ve done what I was supposed to do, but…
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