Where I'm From

With thanks to Cathi who showed this to me; and here is the template for you to try it yourself. A writing exercise well worth a go.

I am from concrete footpaths, from double chocolate Magnum ice cream, and winter beaches.

I am from the yellow house by the park, the long muddy driveway and Dad's homemade letterbox, the silence of soft rain.

I am from the eucalyptus and pohutukawa and mandarin trees, the passionfruit, and the jasmine that gives you a whiff as you pass below.

I am from sailing and carpentry and pioneers, from May and Doreen and their husbands both Toms, four grandparents from four nations.

I am from the stubborn sense of justice and the constant battle against personal clutter.

From snoring birds - what Tom called the crickets' evensong - and being smaller than my little brother.

I am from holy rollers and God chasers, in a score of churches whose walls have witnessed miracles.

I'm from a city sandwiched by oceans, from Irish and Scottish and English and German, long draughts of cold milk, and carrot cake with walnuts and cream cheese on top.

From the great-grandmother who left Ireland for Scotland and work, and found love; the miner in the Coromandel gold rush; the 1978 Renault.

I am from farm holidays, beach camps, church foyers, and sun-drenched verandas.