Where I'm From

Another writing activity to try with my kids this fall that one of our co-directors shared at CAWP. This one uses a beautifully illustrated picture book as a mentor text:

Momma, Where Are You From?

Written by Marie Bradby and illustrated by Chris Soentpiet

In it, a daughter asks her mother (obvs.) where she comes from, and the mother explains by giving these beautiful details of people, places, objects, and colors from her childhood.

To write your own, you brainstorm places, people, events, foods, colors, etc. that have been important to your life.

Here is my very, very rough version:

I am from square black letters printed on yellowing pages that tell magical stories of far off lands and mystical realms, times and places that seem more exciting, more romantic, somehow more real than my own. I am from wishing--fervently, often--that life was more like the books I counted as friends.

I am from places far more prosaic.

I am from a white stuccoed house on Kachina Drive with rocks in the front yard because grass takes too much work in the withering Arizona heat.

I am from a choir director father and a pianist mother and listening to afternoon choir rehearsals, sitting on red cushioned church pews in dusty choir lofts.

I am from five older cousins, both feared and admired, from sleepovers and impromptu makeovers and musical reenactments and hot Sunday afternoons in the pool and roughhousing in the living room.

I am from one younger sister, from Legos and Barbies and pretending to be librarians, farmers, ice cream shop owners, sumo wrestlers, and dolphin trainers.

I am from Saturday mornings at the public library, wandering through the rows and rows of dusty shelves, searching for books I haven't yet met and devoured. I am from the sighs of my mother as I emerge, triumphant, arms laden with too many books to see over, nearly tripping over a display of paperbacks.

I am from Sunday evening dinner with the family, uncles and aunts and five older cousins chattering about the week's events, arms darting out to reach for food at the big round table, hurrying to grab your share before someone else takes it.

I am from white rice, fried rice, noodle soup, fried noodles. I am from special tofu soup just for me and my sister because the hot and sour soup for the adults is, well, too hot and too sour.

I am from dried shredded pork between two pieces of bread and butter for school lunch. I am from ham and mayonnaise sandwiches for school lunch. I am from butter and sugar sandwiches for school lunch. I am from wishing my mom made better sandwiches for school lunch.

I am from sleepovers of giggling preteen girls, not sleeping, Spice Girls on the TV screen and impromptu fashion shows down the hallway at 2 A.M.

I am from red and gold for Christmas and weddings and babies and Chinese New Year, shiny gold and inky black characters printed on red paper scrolls.

I am from impossibly blue Arizona skies, from brown grass, brown dirt, brown rocks, brown everything.

I am from breathtaking sunsets, pink and purple and orange streaks layered behind a golden-red sun on the horizon.

I am from warm hugs, loud music, a cool glass of sun tea, a quiet, comfortable silence.

I am from finally, finally realizing that there's plenty of romance and excitement and love right here, where I'm from.