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Archive for September, 2011

I am from a backpack covered in pine sap, from comforting hot chocolate and peaches with cream.

I am from the small white house with the black shutters next to the babbling creek, peaceful, beautiful—so fast in the spring that the noise would drown out the chatter of us little girls.

I am from the wild blue irises growing by the pond, the rocks covered in lush green moss. I am from the campsite among the towering pines in the backyard. I am from a marsh where stubborn marigolds showed their yellow blooms.

I am from making shortbread at Christmas time and being hot-headed, from Langmans and Templetons and Cunnings.

I am from the debaters and the reclusives. The creative ones.

From round about, round about, catch a wee mouse and a wee deoch an’ doris.

I am from the Presbyterians. Prayers and studying the bible while sitting on the top step. From Kings, where men wash dishes.

I’m from Guelph, Scotland, England, and France; from oatcakes, fish & chips, and potato scones.

From Paul and I baking a cake of tangerine orange plasticine in my Easy Bake Oven, the lightening that struck our chimney at five in the morning, and playing under Mommy’s quilting while she silently stitched.

I am from the top shelf of the closet under the stairs, the oak bookcase that has leaded glass doors with the catch that never quite catches, and the special drawer in the bedside table.

I am from warm cinnamon buns fresh from the oven. From hugs and Inuit kisses. I am from the hearts of Tobias and Kaia and Bryan.

I am from love.

Mama’s Losin’ It

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