I am from knitted sweaters and socks, from Kraft Dinner with ketchup and beef barley soup that I can never make quite the way she can.
I am from the Great White North, the friendly, caring, crisp with cold mountains, lovely plains of grain, Tim Hortons and hockey.
I am from the hay in the fields, the frozen water under the bridge, the rhubarb in the back garden.
I am from pancakes in the morning that “will be lumpy” and bent pinky fingers, from Jerry and Nancy and Osmond and DesRoches.
I am from the loving sarcasm and quiet acceptance.
From thinking for myself and always asking questions.
I am from confusion and indecision. A God who loves me, and a god who doesn’t exist. A choice to believe what I feel is right.
I’m from Edmonton and Eastern Europe, PÔT-EN-PÔT and Christmas meat pies.
From the Grandmother that lost her daughter to cancer, the Grandfather that lost his life to the same, and the brilliant, beautiful families they left behind.
I am from a radiant mother, a powerful father, brothers I adore and many more I miss beyond words.
Unknown family members (I’m sure my mom will say!) with Sharon, Nancy (Mom) and Cindy.
My lovely mother, as beautiful as I’ve always seen her.
Dad and Mom (Jerry and Nancy) on their wedding day.
Mom with my oldest brother, Adam.
Mom and Dad bring home their baby girl… Me!
Two boys and their baby sister… and one of the most precious pictures time will ever see.
Adam is 2 1/2, Ryan is 1 1/2 and I am quite tiny.
This creative writing meme is from Nichole at In These Small Moments, and
