Where I am from…

I am from the chimes from the village church clock, from gravy on chips and beef-dripping on toast.
I am from the farm hand’s tied cottage, always moving from farm to farm.
I am from the wheat fields, the hay bales and stacks which were the playgrounds of my early years.
I am from the love of food and from ample backsides, from Granny Massingham and Granny Pell and generations of wise women.
I am from a world where our elders are our lifeline as well as the line of our life. I’m from where respect was given in equal measure with love.
From ‘It’s not what you said, it’s the way you said it’ and ‘Do as you would be done by’ and ‘Because I said so!’.
I am from living with the seasons and understanding their power, from scrumping crab apples and getting tummy ache.

I’m from the bike tyres stuffed with pages of the Sun when Granddad couldn’t find a new inner-tube, and the typewriter in the back yard that we used to play with in summer.
I’m from Gardeners and Bee-keepers, Railway-men and Bakers, Cattle-men, teenage mums, soldiers and Gypsies.
I am from artists who never knew their worth and story-tellers who never wrote things down. I’m from the sound of songs sung like lullabies, no matter what the words.
I’m from brothers, six, and a sister, long-awaited. I’m from much that overrides the fears and the traumas.
I’m from Aunties and Uncles, cousins aplenty, grandparents whose word was law, yet who we loved more than life.
I’m from the love of a man, whose love I can never hope to live up to, though I return it in spades and try for all I’m worth.
I’m from all that life has dealt me, good, bad and ugly.

This is based on a poem by George Ella Lyon.  A template for you to have a try too can be found here.

I first saw an adaptation here, and am very grateful for the idea.