One of my birthday gifts this year was a poem written by our 14 year-old daughter about her life---our life. This has become one of my most cherished possessions.
Where I'm From
I am from homemade bread and scalding hot chili.
From sweet smelling Dawn dish soap and almost empty cans of Lysol.
I am from long, screaming games of Zilch and hours of poker.
From green Irish signs on the wall and small Celtic crosses.
I am from piles of shoes in the kitchen and cats on the couches.
From the blasting of Bon Jovi and endless Michael Jackson videos.
I am from sheep in the backyard and baby goats climbing over tires.
From red and brown hair and golden eyes.
I am from the tattered books
Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs
and Love You Forever.
From wiffle ball and chocolate chip cookie bars.
I am from photos, paintings, and sharpie pictures on the walls.
From long walks in the forest and wading in the creek.
I am from the fallen willow tree and escaping animals.
From gigantic pine trees and sticky sap you could only get off with peanut butter.
I am from homeschooling and field trips to Asher's Chocolates.
From prayers in the evening
and soft songs and Bible readings throughout the day.
And on the crowded bookshelf in my living room,
I find lost memories and grins.
I am from these recollections,
These memories make me, me.
On the days when our life seems too messy, too noisy, rather chaotic, and I ask myself why we're living so far away from everything and should I return to work full-time so money isn't so tight, I look at this poem on our refrigerator, and I know all is as it should be.
And I thank our dear daughter for giving me a glimpse into our life through her eyes.