 My grandmother holding my mom. George Ella Lyon wrote a poem called “Where I’m From.” It has evolved into a popular writing exercise. You begin with, “I am from…” and add descriptive elements to define your essence. I am from my parents and my grandparents…refinement, old school, dark mahogany woodwork, white privilege, country clubs, half grapefruits with a cherry, silver salt spoons, winter on white sand beaches, stupid puns, kickball in the backyard, singing in the car. What about the counter direction? I am also a passage to my children and grandchildren – anti-capitalism, naked parties, marriage equality, a warming planet, memes, social media, backyard chickens, women in medicine, piano technology, getting “woke,” ultimate Frisbee, Fiona’s world…? Each in-between generation sits in this position. Here I am, deeply connected to generations separated by 119 years. They are worlds apart, but they merge inside of me - my grandparents’ world that I remember so fondly, my granddaughter’s world that I plunge into, arms outstretched, welcoming. What will I learn from you? My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 87: 164 words, TOTAL = 14,631; 45,369 remaining |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families. Archives
March 2021
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