Where I'm From

I came across an entry in The Walk, and tracked it back to this blog post from someone named Floyd. Inspired to write my own, here is what I came up with. I have a feeling this will be something I come back to over and over - to re-read, edit, add to as a work-in-progress. Looking back as 2004 closed, I promised myself that I would not lose sight of who I am ever again and this post just reinforces my belief that getting to know myself is the most rewarding journey I will ever undertake. And if any of my friends would take a moment, do this exercise and share a part of themselves with me, I would consider myself extremely lucky.

I am from hazy dreams narrated by raindrops and the rhythmic swoosh of cars driving by, from Windex and clothes hanging to dry.

I am from the orange bridge and the little blue house where the frogs sang in a terrifying chorus. From a school field blanketed by fog, from buttercups and bluebells and from the warm hum of the electric power box under the seat of my pants.

I am from the palest pink peony, the pair of pine trees, Adam and Eve who grew up together and are probably growing still.

I am from my mother’s arms, my father’s index finger rough in my palm, from a Hard Day’s Night and Seasons in the Sun.

I am from the bottle-it-ups and the don’t-talk-to-strangers. I am from look at me when I’m talking to you and four character Chinese proverbs that sought to impress but fell on deaf ears. I am from set an example for your sister.

I am from angry looking gods, jolly buddhas and serene goddesses. From the color red, mandarin oranges and incense thickened air. I am from Sunday school, pristine and white.

I am from Hollybank Drive and Hong Kong. From patterned bags of jasmine rice and boiled liver fed to the dog under the table.

I am from the bold stroke of ink, brush to paper, my grandfather’s creation. I am from the second wife of a piano maker, mother of eight - only one son. I am from black and white strangers, eyes forward, unsmiling and serious.

I am from photo albums torn apart with the marriage, from a keepsake in the form of a cast iron wok. I am from heartache and resilience, understanding, learning and always – always, hope.