I am from tart rhubarb pie fresh from the oven, from Dandelion wine, homemade go-carts racing down Upper State Park Avenue and my mamas sweet lovin’.

I am from the little white house nestled in the valley, creaking cold floors and the smell of the wood stove, from summer’s spent building dams in the crick and winters skating on the frozen pond.

I am from the walks among the willow trees and honey bees, the water from a spring and a cool summer breeze blowing through the apple trees.

I am from Saturday night pizza night, lemon cookies with Grandpa, bonfires, and stubborn streaks to prove we are right. I am from Frank and Rosalie, and Fred and Ruby, strong and solid, soft and generous.

I am from the pride of the Marines and the strength of the strong-willed.

From “how’s my punkin’ wunkin’” and “hello my little chickadee”. I am from “put a coat on” and “you’ll poke your eye out with that.”

“I was born in town just like your own. I was raised to believe in the power of the of the Unknown. But when the answers and the truth take different sides, will you still find me? Will you still see me?”

I am from jumping off porches like Mary Poppins, trading Matchbox cars, playing Dukes of Hazard with Jim, hide and seek in the dark, Monster on the Moon, and sledding for hours in blizzards of snow.

I’m from the pride of the Seneca nation, from Fisher’s Field and the foothills of the Allegany Mountains, deer meat and potatoes, Mallow Cups and Perry’s ice cream.

I am from remember when he stopped the car to get a switch and she asked dad to get a switch for her too, and remember when the boys set the woods on fire?  

I am from mom’s bottom drawer, the potato room and the fireplace that is no more, the smell of dad’s closet and my mom’s perfume. I am from her peaceful hum and his strong, yet tender hands, Perry Cuomo and his harmonica.

A girl can hardly ask to be from more.



4 responses to “I AM FROM…

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