I am from blue jeans, from Downey Fabric Softener, and Band-Aids.
I am from an inviting, homey feeling.
I am from the mountains, the crunchy, colorful, fall leaves.
I am from Sunday dinners, deep hazel eyes, from Alan and Janeal, and Gatrell.
I am from loud laughter, and shocking comments.
From “Morning comes early,” and “There’s a fine line.”
I am from church on Sunday, Family Home Evening, Wednesday night mutual, early morning seminary, summer youth conferences, and reading the Book of Mormon when we woke up.
I am from Holy Cross Hospital, Salt Lake City, Utah, USA, with an English heritage, and Mom’s crescent rolls and Nana Nade’s brownies.
From the time that Mom jumped into the bathtub with her clothes on, and when we slept outside under the stars/sprinklers with Dad, and from trips to Lagoon or Lake Powel.
I am from boxes and piles of dated photographs and from journals stashed under my bed. They speak of the past and catch moments in time, and help me to lock those treasures tenderly in the archives of me.
I got this writing exercise from Mommygoingcrazy, who got it from 8 hours, who found it via Buffy. The chain continues on, but I can’t quite trace it back to it’s original source. It’s popularity speaks for itself. I value it for its sentimental and historical form of record keeping. I’m taking it with me to my family reunion this week. I’ll add it to the journals stashed under my bed.