I'm from fields of gold and purple, gravel roads and three mile corners.
Bikes on sidewalks, peddle to the metal so you're not late for school.
Home for lunch then back again.
Workbooks and recess bells.
This is where it all began.
I'm from bun dough rising under checkered tea-towels.
Baked fresh in the morning - pull them apart and watch the hot steam rise.
Chokecherry jam and rollkuchen.
Watermelon juice running down your chin.
Spitting seeds, pop open your button.
There's always more where that came from.
I'm from freedom and space - bike where you want to, it's all safe here.
(Or so we thought).
Meeting at the park, making eyes, holding hands, giggling and laughing.
Endless summer nights.
Stories that go on and on.
I'm from number 606 in the Mennonite Hymnal.
Thunderous harmonies, accapella, rich with history.
Hard pews, heavy eyes, stomach growling.
Is it over yet? I've heard this one before.
But something draws you back.
I'm from hard work and well made plans.
Dream your dream, but first be sure it's practical.
Drive away, the bright lights call.
This is what you waited for.
Golden fields in rear-view mirror.
You came from here.
No matter where you end up.
(Prompted by Sarah Bessey's In which I'm from second-hand-skates)